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23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14580 

(716)  872-4503 


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CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHM/ICMH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microreproductions  /  Institut  Canadian  de  microreproductions  historiques 


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Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notes/Notes  techniques  et  bibliographiques        a 


The  Institute  has  attempted  to  obtain  the  best 
original  copy  available  for  filming.  Features  of  this 
copy  which  may  be  bibliographically  unique, 
which  may  alter  any  of  the  images  in  the 
reproduction,  or  which  may  significantly  change 
the  usual  method  of  filming,  are  checked  below. 


D 
D 
D 


Coloured  covers/ 
Couverture  de  couleur 

Covers  damaged/ 
Couverture  endommag6e 

Covers  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Couverture  restaur^e  et/ou  pellicui6e 

Cover  title  missing/ 

Le  titre  de  couverture  manque 


□    Coloured  maps/ 
Cartes  g^ographiques  en  couleur 

□    Coloured  ink  (i.e.  other  than  blue  or  black)/ 
Encre  de  couleur  (i.e.  autre  que  bleue  ou  noire) 


n 


D 


Coloured  plates  and/or  illustrations/ 
Planches  et/ou  illustrations  en  couleur 

Bound  with  other  material/ 
ReliA  avec  d'autres  documents 

Tight  binding  may  cause  shadows  or  distortion 
along  interior  margin/ 

La  reliure  serr^e  peut  causer  de  I'ombre  ou  de  la 
distortion  le  long  de  la  marge  int6rieure 

Blank  leaves  added  during  restoration  may 
appear  within  the  text.  Whenever  possible,  these 
have  been  omitted  from  filming/ 
II  se  peut  que  certaines  pages  blanches  ajoutdes 
lors  d'une  restauration  apparaissent  dans  le  texte, 
mais,  iorsque  cela  6tait  possible,  cas  pages  n'ont 
pas  6t6  filmdes. 


L'Institut  a  microfilm^  le  meilleur  exemplaire 
qu'il  lui  a  6t6  possible  de  se  procurer.  Les  details 
de  cet  exemplaire  qui  sont  peut-Atre  uniques  du 
point  de  vue  bibliographique,  qui  peuvent  modifier 
une  image  reproduite,  ou  qui  peuvent  exiger  une 
modification  dans  la  methods  normale  de  filmage 
sont  indiquds  ci-dessous. 


D 
D 
D 
D 
D 
D 


Coloured  pages/ 
Pages  de  couleur 

Pages  damaged/ 
Pages  endommagdes 

Pages  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Pages  restaurdes  et/ou  peliicui6es 

Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxed/ 
Pages  d6color6es,  tacheties  ou  piqu6es 

Pages  detached/ 
Pages  d6tach6es 

Showthrough/ 
Transparence 


D 


I      I    Quality  of  print  varies/ 


Quality  in6gale  de  I'impression 

Includes  supplementary  material/ 
Comprend  du  materiel  supplimentaire 

Only  edition  available/ 
Seule  Edition  disponible 


Pages  wholly  or  partially  obscured  by  errata 
slips,  tissues,  etc.,  have  been  refilmed  to 
ensure  the  best  possible  image/ 
Les  pages  totalement  ou  partiellement 
obscurcies  par  un  feuillet  d'errata,  une  pelure, 
etc.,  ont  6t6  filmdes  d  nouveau  de  fapon  d 
obtenir  la  meilleure  image  possible. 


D 


Additional  comments:/ 
Commentaires  suppldmentaires; 


This  item  is  filmed  at  the  reduction  ratio  checked  below/ 

Ce  document  est  film6  au  taux  de  reduction  indiqu6  ci-dessous. 

10X  14X  18X  22X 


26X 


30X 


12X 


16X 


20X 


24X 


28X 


32X 


ire 

details 
IBS  du 
modifier 
ler  une 
filmage 


The  copy  filmed  here  has  been  reproduced  thanlts 
to  the  generosity  of: 

Library  of  Congress 
Photoduplication  Service 

The  images  appearing  here  are  the  best  quality 
possible  considering  the  condition  and  legibility 
of  the  original  copy  and  in  keeping  with  the 
filming  contract  specifications. 


L'exemplaire  film^  fut  reproduit  grdce  d  la 
gdndrositd  de: 

Library  of  Congress 
Photoduplication  Service 

Les  images  suivantes  ont  6t6  reproduites  avec  le 
plus  grand  soin,  compte  tenu  de  la  condition  et 
de  la  nettet6  de  l'exemplaire  film6,  et  en 
conformity  avec  les  conditions  du  contrat  de 
filmage. 


Original  copies  in  printed  paper  covers  are  filmed 
beginning  with  the  front  cover  and  ending  on 
the  last  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, or  the  back  cover  when  appropriate.  All 
other  original  copies  are  filmed  beginning  on  the 
first  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, and  ending  on  the  last  page  with  a  printed 
or  illustrated  impression. 


6es 


Les  exemplaires  originaux  dont  la  oouverture  en 
papier  est  imprimde  sont  film^s  en  commenpant 
par  le  premier  plat  et  en  terminant  soit  par  la 
dernidre  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration,  soit  par  le  second 
plat,  seion  le  cas.  Tous  les  autres  exemplaires 
originaux  sont  filmds  en  commenpant  par  la 
premidre  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration  et  en  terminant  par 
la  dernidre  page  qui  comporte  une  telle 
empreinte. 


The  last  recorded  frame  on  each  microfichr 
shall  contain  the  symbol  ^^  (meaning  "CON- 
TINUED "),  or  the  symbol  V  (meaning  'END"), 
whichever  applies. 


Un  des  symboles  suivants  apparaitra  sur  la 
dernidre  image  de  cheque  microfiche,  selon  le 
cas:  le  symbole  — »-  signifie  "A  SUIVRE",  le 
symbole  V  signifie  "FIN". 


re 


Maps,  plates,  charts,  etc.,  may  be  filmed  at 
different  reduction  ratios.  Those  too  large  to  be 
entirely  included  in  one  exposure  are  filmed 
beginning  in  the  upper  left  hand  corner,  left  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  as  many  frames  as 
required.  The  following  diagrams  illustrate  the 
method: 


Les  cartes,  planches,  tableaux,  etc.,  peuvent  dtre 
filmds  d  des  taux  de  reduction  diffdrents. 
Lorsque  le  document  est  trop  grand  pour  dtre 
reproduit  en  un  seul  clich6,  il  est  filmd  d  partir 
de  Tangle  supdrieur  gauche,  de  gauche  d  droite, 
et  de  haut  en  bas,  en  prenant  le  nombre 
d'images  ndcessaire.  Les  diagrammes  suivants 
illustrent  la  m^thode. 


ly  errata 
9d  to 

nt 

ne  pelure, 

ipon  d 


1 

2 

3 

32X 


1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

•  5 


I 


I 


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0 


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■j^jvajgc^isw-' 


Medoline  Selwyn's 
Work. 


BY     / 


MRS.  J.  J.  COLTER. 


T       '       m     The  Kolden  opportnnlty 

Is  never  offered  twice  ;  seize,  then,  the  hour 

When  fortune  smiles  and  Duty  points  the  way  : 

Nor  shrink  aside  to  scape  the  fear,— 

Nor  pause  th()ugh  Pleasure  beckon  from  her  bower. 

But  bravely  bear  thee  onward  to  the  goal." 


";■    ii. 


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BOSTON : 
IRA  BRADLEY  &  CO. 


AUn8ii889- 
■-•^'  ■--■■'Mr/! ON.  "y 


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OOFYBIOHT,  1889. 

IBA  BRADLEY  &  CO. 


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■-•  «v»CTMVwwiLWiBr,>«Hi»»^?i^i»^j'ewvicy^^^N«'«^  ■ 


O. 


CBAPTIBi 

I. 

II. 

III. 

IV. 

V. 
VI. 
VII. 
VIII. 
IX. 
X. 
XL 
XII. 
XIII. 
XIV. 
XV. 
XVI. 
XVII. 
XVIII. 
XIX. 
XX. 
XXI. 
XXII. 
XXIII. 
XXIV. 
XXV. 
XXVI. 
XXVII. 
XXVIII. 
XXIX. 


INDEX. 


Mbs.  Blake "°* 

Oaklands [ ^ 

ESMKBELDA ^T 

The  Fuwekai. "'.".'.".".'.'.".'.'.'.!.'.'.'.' 49 

A  New  Accomplishment  Lea«ned. ".".".'.;."    47 

Mb.  WiNTUBop ' 

Examination ^ 

Mbs.  Labkum 

An  Evening  Walk 
A  Helping  Hand., 
City  Life 


70 

78 

01 

103 


New  Acquaintances..!.!! !^ 

Alone  With  His  Dead ...!.!!! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ' ' '  j« 

Humble  Cuabities ,,-. 

A  Pleasant  SuBPBiSE....! JJl 

Hope  Realized ZL 

Chbistmas-tide ff: 

The  Chbistmas  Tree...!!  !!!!!.!!!"■ o«o 

Thbee  Important 
Mrs  Le  Gbande.. 


252 


Letters 272 


285 


Mrs.  Le  Gbande's  Story  onr 

The  Changed  Heart ^ 


310 
324 


The  Encounteb  at  St.  Mabk's 

Mrs.  Le  Grande's  Stbataoem.  . ! ^^ 

Beech  Street  Worshippers.  ...      Z', 

Fbom  The  Depths ^ 

Convalescence ^ 

The  Sound  of  Marbiaoe'bells. J-i 

Tub  End ^ 

**** ovX 


^  aeM^fifl&MMlNUa.'VRIKSlClM^ 


MEDOLINE  SELWYN'S  WORK. 


CHAPTER  I. 


MRS.  BLAKE. 

|HE  cars  were  not  over-crowded,  and  were 
moving  leisurely  along  in  the  soft,  midsum- 
mer twilight.  At  first,  I  had  felt  a  trifle 
annoyed  at  my  carelessness  in  missing  the  Express 
by  which  I  had  been  expected ;  but  now  I  quite 
enjoyed  going  in  this  mixed  train,  since  I  could  the 
better  observe  the  country  than  in  the  swifter 
Express.  As  I  drew  near  the  end  of  my  journey, 
my  pulses  began  to  quicken  with  nervousness,  not 
unmixed  with  dread. 

Captain  Green,  under  whose  care  I  had  been 
placed  when  I  left  my  home  for  the  last  eight 
years,  had  concluded,  no  doubt  very  wisely,  that  I 
could  travel  the  remaining  few  miles  through  quiet 
county  places  alone,     This  last  one  hundred  and 


Q  MEDOLINE  SELWrys  WOllK. 

fiftv  miles,  however,  hud  Ixicn  the  must  trying  part 
of  tho  whole  journey.     My   English  wus  a  tnllo 
hallinK  ;  all  our  teachers  spoke  Geruiau  as  their 
n.otl.er  tongue  at  the  sehool,  and  the  last  two  years 
I  was  the  only  English-born  pupil.     C^iptam  (Jreeii 
was  an  old  East  Indian  officer,  like  my  own  dead 
father,  and  very  readily  undertook  the  care  of  a 
troublesome  chit  of  a  girl  across  the  ocean,  in  mem- 
ory of  the  strong  friendship  subsisting  between  hun 
self  and  my  father,  now  long  since  passed  to  other 
service  than  that  of  Her  Gracious  Majesty.     Ihe 
Captain  was  a  very  silent  man,  and  therefore  not 
calculated  to  help  me  to  a  better  acquaintance  of 
any  language,  while  he  did  not  encourage  me  to 
make  friends  with  my  traveling  companions.     1  he 
iourney  had  been  therefore  a  very  quiet  one  to  me, 
but  I  had  found  it  delightful.     I  had,  like  most  of 
our  species,  an  innate  love  of  the  sea  ;  and  the  long, 
still  hours  as  I  sat  alone  gazing  out  over  the  rest- 
less waters,  have  left  one  of  the  pleasantest  of  all 
the  pictures  hanging  in  memory's  halls. 

As  I  did  not  wish  to  be  taken,  even  by  the 
chance  traveling  companions  of  a  few  hours,  for 
other  than  an  English  or  American  girl,  I  resolved 
to  speak  fewest  possible  words  to  an>-  one  on  the 
journey ;  and  when  the  conductor  came  for  my  ticket, 
I  repressed  the  desire  to  ask  him  to  tell  me  when 
my  own  station  would  be  reached,  and  merely 
shook  my  head  at  the  news  agents  who  wer^  more 


tn 
wl 
G 
wi 

Wi 

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lie 
to 
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be 
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J 
sai 


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J 

yoi 


yoi 

pec 

(I 

any 


Mlili.  HLAKE. 


,  trying  part 
iViis  a  trillo 
an  as  their 
,st  two  yoara 
ptiiin  (Jrocii 
yr  own  (lead 
ic  ciiri)  of  a 
can,  in  meni- 
jetween  liini 
iscil  to  otlier 
iijesty.    Tiie 
herefore  n^t 
uaintancc  of 
arago  mo  to 
\uions.    The 
etone  to  me, 
,  like  most  of 
andthelong, 
)ver  the  rest- 
santest  of  all 
Is. 

even  by  the 
QW  hours,  for 
irl,  I  resolved 
ny  one  on  the 
)  for  my  ticket, 
tell  nie  when 
,  and  merely 
ho  wer^  more 


tr(»nl)lnsoiiie,  if  possible,  than  the  dust  and  smoko 
wliich  poured  in  at  doors  and  windows.  Captain 
Green  had  telegraphed  luy  guardian  the  hour  at 
which  I  would  arrive,  but  I  got  so  interested 
watcliing  the  busy  crowds  on  the  streets  from  my 
hotel  window  that,  for  a  while,  I  forgot  that  I  Ujo 
needed  a  measure  of  their  eager  haste,  if  I  were  soon 
to  terminate  this  long  journey  over  land  and  sen. 
I  was  beginning  to  fear,  at  laat,  after  the  cars  had 
been  in  motion  some  hours,  that  I  might  have 
passed  my  station  ;  so  I  concluded  to  have  my 
question  carefully  written  down,  and  the  next  time 
the  conductor  came  near  me  hand  it  to  him. 
I  had  not  long  to  wait,  and  giving  him  the  slip  of 
paper,  I  murmured  "Please." 

He  read,  and  then  looking  at  me  very  intently 
said: 

"  Are  you  a  foreigner  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no ;  English,"  I  said,  blushing  furiously. 

"  Why  don't  you  speak  then,  when  you  want 
anything  ?     That's  wliat  we're  here  for." 

I  bowed  my  head  quite  proudly  and  said,  "  Will 
you  please,  then,  answer  my  question?" 

"  We  won't  be  there  for  an  hour  or  more.  Are 
you  not  the  young  lady  Mrs.  Flaxraan  is  ex- 
pecting ?  " 

"I  am  Mr.  Winthrop's  ward.  I  do  not  know 
any  Mrs.  Flaxman." 

"  Oh,  it's  all  the  sq,me.     She  lives  with  him  ;  is  a 


MKDOLINK  SKLWYN'S  WORK. 


couain,  or  something  coniicctctl  Avitli  him.  llo 
u  ttwiiy  now;  lufl  u  month  cigo  for  tlio  I'licilio 
coiwt." 

lie  wiw  sitting  now  qiiito  comfortably  in  the 
next  HCiit. 

"You  needn't  have  any  more  anxiety  about  the 
stopping  places,"  ho  continued,  very  cordially  ;  "  I 
will  look  after  you,  and  see  that  you  get  safely 
home,  if  there's  no  one  there  to  meet  yo)i.  Most 
likely  they  expected  you  by  the  morning's  Ex- 
press." Then  lie  inquired  about  my  luggiigo,  ex- 
amining my  checks  and  keeping  up  a  running 
stream  of  conversation  which  I  seemed  compelled 
to  answer.  After  the  rigid  exclusion  of  my  school 
life,  where  we  were  taught  to  regard  all  sorts  of  men 
with  a  measure  of  wholesome  dread,  I  scarce  knew 
whether  to  bo  proud  of  my  courage  in  being  able 
to  sit  there,  with  such  outward  cahnness,  or 
ashamed  of  my  boldness.  If  I  couhl  only  havo 
consulted  one  of  the  teachers  just  for  a  moment  it 
would  have  been  such  a  relief;  but  presently  the 
train  stopped,  when  he  left  my  side,  his  seat  to  be 
immediately  occupied  by  an  elderly  woman  with  a 
huge  covered  basket.  After  considerable  difficulty 
she  got  herself  and  basket  bestowed  to  her  satisfac- 
tion just  before  the  cars  got  in  motion.  She  moved 
uneasily  on  the  seat,  looking  arour.d  on  all  sides  a 
trifle  nervously,  and  then  in  an  awed  whisper  said  to 
me,  "  Don't  the  cars  go  all  to  smash  sometimes  ?  " 


in 

nn 
ba 

roi 
in] 


ant 
ma 

I  CI 

aft( 
eve 
for 
law 

soo 

(I 


■-S,'y-T^-i'v--J)^  >^'; 


HK. 

1th  him.    ITo 
r  iho  Pnciiio 

rlrtl>ly  in  the 

ety  about  the 
cordially  ;  "  I 
[)U  get  safely 
t  yo)i.     Most 
iioniiiig'8  Ex- 
Y  luggiigo,  ex- 
ip  a   running 
led  compelled 
1  of  my  school 
,11  sorts  of  mon 
I  scarce  knew 
in  being  able 
calmness,   or 
aid  only  have 
r  a  moment  it 
presently  the 
his  seat  to  be 
woman  with  a 
rable  difficulty 
to  her  satisfaC' 
1.    She  moved 
I  on  nil  sides  a 
whisper  said  to 
sometimes  ?  " 


W/.'.s.   lil.AKK. 


0 


"Not   many    times,"    I    tried    to    say   reassur- 

i"giy- 

"I  wan't  never  in  'em  afore,  and  wouldn't  bo 
now,  only  nry  son  Dan'd's  wife's  took  onconimoii 
bad,  and  lio  thinks  I  can  euro  her." 

She  reniained  quiet  a  wliilo,  and  then  somewhat 
reassured  began  to  grow  curious  about  her  travel- 
ing coniijanions. 

"Have  you  ciini  fur?"  hIio  asked. 
I  explained  that']  had  como  a  good  many  miles. 
•'All  alone?" 
"  Oidy  from  New  York." 
"  Going  fur  ?  " 
"  To  Cavendish." 
"  Did  you  say  Cavendish?" 
"Yes." 

"Bo  you  a  fnrriner?" 

"  No,  I  am  English  ;  "  I  felt  my  color  rising  as  I 
answered. 

"Well,  you  speak  sort  o'  queer,  but  my  old 
man  was  English,  too,  a  Norfolk  man,  and  blest  if 
I  could  understand  quarter  he  said  for  ever  so  long 
after  we  got  keci)ing  cf)nipany.  I  used  to  say  yes  to 
everything  I  didn't  understand  when  we  was  alone, 
for  fear  ho  might  be  popping  tlia  question;  but 
laws,  I  knew  well  enough  when  ho  did  ask." 

She  fell  into  an  apparently  pleasant  reverie,  but 
soon  returned  to  tlie  actualities  of  life. 
"  You're  not  married,  surely." 


10 


MEDOLISK  SELWYN'H   WORK. 


I  answered  in  the  negative  with  fewest  possible 

words. 

"Got  a  young  man,  though,  I'll  warrant ;  such 

a  likely  girl." 

"I  do  not  understand  what  you  mean,"  I 
answered  with  considerable  dignity,  glad  to  let  her 
know  tliat  her  own  English  was  not  perfect. 

"  You  must  have  been  riz  in  a  queer  place  not  to 
know  what  likely  is.  Why,  it's  good-looking ;  and 
anybody  knows  you're  that.  But  I  suppose  you 
didn't  have  much  eddication,  they  mostly  don't  in 
England ;  my  man  didn't  know  even  his  letters ; 
but  I  have  pretty  good  book  larniu'  and  so  we  got 
on  all  right,"  she  continued,  with  a  retrospective 
look  on  her  not  unkindly  face. 

"  Who  might  your  folks  be  in  Cavendish  ?  "  she 
asked,  after  a  few  moments  of  welcome  silence. 

"  I  have  no  relatives  tliere,"  I  answered,  I  am 
afraid,  rather  ungraciously. 

"  Going  as  governess  or  nurse  girl  to  some  of 
the  aristocracy  there  ?     You  don't  look  as  if  you 
ever  did  much  housework,  though." 
"  I  am  going  to  Mr.  Winthrop's." 
"  Deu  tell !     Why,  I  lived  with  his  mother  my- 
self, when  I  was  a  widder  lirst." 

Then  she  relapsed  into  another  eloquent  pause 
of  silence,  while  possibly  in  her  dim  way  she  was 
reflecting  how  history  repeats  itself.  But  coming 
back  to  reality  again,  and  scanning  me  more  closely 


thi 
wc 

pOi 

as 


th( 


sail 

] 

ing 

hei 


Ion 
pla 

aft( 

anc 

I 

trai 

mai 

ti 

Ho 

wit 


ORE. 

fewest  possible 

warrant;  such 

you  mean,"  I 
,  glad  to  let  her 
t  perfect, 
eer  place  not  to 
)d-looking ;  and 
I  suppose  you 
mostly  don't  in 
v^en  his  letters ; 
.'  and  so  we  got 
a  retrospective 

avendlsh?"  she 
;ome  silence, 
tnswered,  I   am 

girl  to  some  of 
look  as  if  you 

his  mother  niy- 

eloquent  pause 
im  way  she  was 
If.  But  coming 
;  me  more  closely 


MItS.  liLAKE. 


.;t-_i  j^a<,i*j«w.xrv-5*r'!y'<T?r?r-t  St-nf-  -\ 


11 


than  ever,  slie  asked,  "Are  you  going  there   lo 
work  ?  " 

My  patience  was  getting  exhausted,  and  it  is 
possible  there  was  a  trace  of  i)etulauce  in  my  voice 
as  I  said,  "  No,  I  am  Mr.  Winthrop's  ward." 

"  Deu  tell !     What  is  that  ?  " 

"  He  is  my  guardian." 

"  Why,  he  is  a  young  man  for  that.  I  thought 
they  got  elderly  men." 

"  My  father  held  the  same  relation  to  him. 

She  was  some  time  taking  in  the  idea,  but  she 
said  at  last,  "  Oh,  I  see." 

I  took  a  book  from  my  satchel  and  began  read- 
ing ;  but  she  did  not  long  permit  me  to  enjoy  it ; 
her  next  remark,  however,  riveted  my  attention. 

"  I  wonder  if  your  name  isn't  Selwyn." 

"Yes." 

"  Deary  me,  then  I  have  seen  your  pa  and  ma 
long  ago  at  Oaklands ;  that's  the  Winthrop's 
place." 

"  Please  tell  me  about  them.  I  never  saw  them 
after  I  was  t«n  years  old.  I  was  sent  from  India, 
and  then  they  died." 

I  spoke  with  a  slight  hesitancy,  having  first  to 
translate  my  sentences,  as  I  still  thought,  in  Ger- 
man. 

"Well,  I  wan't  much  acquainted  with  'em. 
Housemaids  ain't  in  general  on  friendly  terms 
witk  the  (juality,  but  your  ma  was  so  kind  to  us 


''ill 


12 


MEDOLINE  SELWYN'8  WORK. 


servJints,  I've  always  reraombored  her.     Mrs.  Win- 
tlu-op  sot  a  sight  by  her." 

"  What  was  that  ?  "  I  asked,  much  mystified. 
"  Oh,  she  liked  them  better'n  most." 
"Do  you  recollect  their  appearance?" 
*'  Yes  ;  your  father  was  a  soldier-like,  handsome 
looking  man,  very  tall  and  pretty  stern.     Your  ma 
minded  me  of  a  flower,  she  was  so  delicate.     They 
wan't  long  married  then,  but  my,  they  was  fond  of 
each  other!  Your  father  just  worshipped  her.  I  heard 
Mrs.  Winthrop  say  he  had  a  hard  time  to  get  her. 
Your  ma's  folks  didn't  want  her  to  marry  a  soldier. 
She  was  an  only  child,  and  they  lived  in  England. 
The  Winthrops  were  English,  too,  as  well  as  your 
father." 

It  was  my  turn  now  to  fall  into  a  reverie  at  the 
strangeness  of  circumstances,  thus  causing  n>e  to 
meet  this  plain,  old  body,  and  learning  from  her 
incidents  about  my  own  dead  parents  I  miglit 
otherwise  never  have  known  ;  besides  she  told  it  in 
such  a  realistic  way  that,  in  some  mysterious 
fashion,  like  mind  reading,  I  seemed  to  see  it  all 
myself  through  her  clear  eyes. 

"  Have  you  many  brothers  and  sisters  ?  " 
"  My  mother  had  four  children  ;  but  the  others 
died  in  infancy." 

"  You  look  rugged  as  most  young  ladies." 
*'  Do  you  mean  healthy  ?  " 


"1 
rosy 

the 

yean 

thert 

their 

ti ' 

nate: 

"] 

"( 

"] 

Belg 
t( 

(( ' 
I  sp( 

iuE 
me  t 
bett< 

I 

(I ' 

ture 

it ' 

to  c 
hanl 
beb 
tills 


rrs'r'.-jii'jj'r 


ORK. 

er.     Mrs.  Win- 

ili  mystified. 

>st." 
ice?" 

-like,  handsome 
tern.  Your  ma 
lelicatc.  Tlicy 
hey  was  fond  of 
pedher.  I  heard 
time  to  get  her. 
marry  a  soldier, 
i^ed  in  Enghiiid. 
as  well  as  your 

a  reverie  at  llic 
s  causing  me  to 
irniiig  from  hur 
areiits  I  miglit 
desshe  told  it  in 
ome  mysterious 
ned  to  see  it  all 

sisters?" 
;  but  the  others 

iig  ladies." 


MTt8.  BLAKE. 


13 


"  Well,  yes ;  you  have  a  clear  complexion  and 
rosy  cheeks." 

"  They  were  extremely  careful  of  our  health  at 
the  school  where  I  have  been  for  the  last  eight 
years.  That  was  the  reason  my  father  sent  mo 
there.  IIo  had  heard  how  remarkably  healthy 
their  pupils  were." 

"  'Twan't  in  this  country,  or  you'd  speaK  more 
nateral  like. 

"  No,  it  was  in  Brussels."  '  ' 

"  Oh,  yes ;  in  England,  I  suppose." 

"  No,  on  the  continent  of  Europe ;  a  city  in 
Belgium,  the  capital." 

"  And  you've  talked  a  furrin  tongue,  then." 

"  Yes,  several ;  but  the  German  is  the  only  one 
I  speak  quite  correctly." 

"  Bless  your  heart,  you'll  soon  talk  fast  enough 
in  English.  Your  voice  is  very  sweet ;  it  minds 
me  of  your  ma's.  And  it  'pears  to  me  you  speak 
better  already." 

I  was  beaming  on  the  gooa  woman  now. 

"  Will  you  remain  long  in  Cavendish  ?  "  I  ven- 
tured on  a  question  or  two  myself. 

"  It'll  depend  on  on  Dan'els  wife.  He  wants  me 
to  come  and  live  with  'em,  but  I  hain't  much 
hankering  for  darters-in-law,  and  I  x-eckon  we'd 
be  better  friends  furder  apart.  However  I'll  stay 
till  she  gets  well ;  it  costs  so  for  hired  girls." 

"  May  I  come  and  see  you?"  I  asked. 


,'« 


14 


MBDOLINE  SELWYN'8  WORK. 


"  Bless  your  dear  heart,  I'll  be  pioud  to  have 
you  come." 

"  Will  you  please  tell  me  your  name  and  what 
street  you  live  on  ?  " 

"  Oh,  the  streets  don't  amount  to  much  in 
Cavendish.  My  name  is  Betsy  Blake  ;  just  in 
quire  for  Dau'el  Blake  on  the  Mill  Road  ;  he  works 
in  Belcher's  steam  mill.  Laws,  how  quick  the 
time  liiis  gone  !  I  thought  for  sure  I'd  be  amost 
scart  to  death ;  and  I've  hardly  once  thought  of 
getting  smashed  since  I  sot  down  here  first ;  and 
now  we're  just  into  Cavendish." 

I  glanced  through  the  window,  and  my  heart 
throbbed  joyously ;  for  there,  stretching  so  far 
away  I  could  see  no  farther  shore,  lay  the  beautiful 
ocean.  No  matter  now  what  might  be  my  home  in 
this  strange,  new  country.  With  my  passion  for 
the  sea,  and  it  so  near,  I  could  not  be  utterly 
desolate.  To  sit  on  these  cliffs,  reddening  now  in 
the  sunset  and  watch  the  outgoing  tide,  sending 
imaginary  messages  on  the  departing  waves  to  far- 
off  shores,  would  surely,  to  some  extent,  deaden 
the  sense  of  utter  isolation  from  the  world  of  child- 
hood and  youth.  Mrs.  Blake  shook  my  hand 
warmly,  repeating  .again  the  invitation  to  visit  her 
at  Daniel's,  while  she  gathered  up  her  huge  basket 
and  started  for  the  door  with  the  cars  still  in 
motion.  I  sat  watcliing  from  the  window  the 
groups  of  people  waiting  for  the  incoming  train  as 


Ml 

tl 

A 

h 

n 

s] 
si 
n 
n 
a 


y 
h 


E 
r 

I 


-iW?^,-t.;r*..-«'*«4r*r"--'^.''!-'ilMr 


-J 


cX 


r' 


n^-ri'i'*^'". 


WOHK. 

e  proud  to  have 

name  and  what 

int  to  much  in 
Blake  ;  just  in 
Road ;  lie  works 
how  quick  the 
ire  I'd  be  amost 
once  thought  of 
1  here  first ;  and 

,  and  my  heart 
tretching  so  far 
lay  the  beautiful 
it  be  my  home  in 
my  passion  for 
not  be  utterly 
eddening  now  in 
ng  tide,  sending 
ing  waves  to  far- 
I  extent,  deaden 
le  world  of  child- 
shook  my  hand 
ation  to  visit  her 
i  her  huge  basket 
the  cars  still  in 
;he  window  the 
ncoming  train  as 


JlfRS.  BLAKE. 


15 


we  stopped  at  the  station.  A  few  carriages  were 
there,  but  none  of  them  had  come  ftn-  Mrs.  Blake. 
A  strong  limbed  man,  with  a  dejected  face,  relieved 
her  of  tlie  basket  and  then  hurried  away,  she 
rapidly  following.  I  felt  sorry  for  them,  and  was 
speculating  what  news  Daniel  had  brought  of  his 
sick  wife,  quite  forgetting  for  the  time  that  I  too  had 
need  to  be  astir.  The  conductor,  however,  soon  re- 
minded me  of  the  fact  as  he  announced  briskly  that 
a  carriage  was  in  waiting  for  me. 

"They  will  send  down  bye-and-bye  for  your 
luggage  ;  it's  only  a  one-seated  affair  outside." 

I  followed  him  to  the  carriage  ;  a  bright  faced 
young  fellow  was  holding  a  spirited  horse  ;  from 
his  bearing  I  instantly  set  him  down  as  something 
more  than  a  servant. 

*'  Here,  Flaxman,  is  your  charge,"  the  conductor 
remarked,  as  he  assisted  me  into  the  carriage. 

"  Miss  Selwyn,  I  presume,"  the  young  man  said, 
politely,  as  he  disentangled  one  hand  from  the 
reins  to  grasp  mine.  The  horse  started  off  on  a 
biasing  canter,  much  to  my  amusement. 

"  You  are  not  afraid,  I  hope,"  my  companion 
said,  a  trifle  anxiously. 

"Not  afraid,  but  amused ;  your  horse  goes  so 
oddly  ;  but  I  am  not  accustomed  to  their  ways." 
I  added,  fearing  my  remark  might  give  ofTence. 

"  Faery  and  I  are  very  good  friends,  and  un- 


10 


MMDOUNE  SELWYN'S  WORK. 


derstand    eucli    other  thoroughly;    but  stniiigcrs 
usually  get  alarmed." 

My  knowledge  of  quadrupeds  waa  so  limited  I 
thought  it  safest  to  remain  silent. 

Presently  >ve  passed  the  lilakes,  I  longed  to 
relieve  Daniel  of  his  heavy  basket ;  for  even  ho 
seemed  to  stagger  beneath  its  weight. 

"  I  was  speaking  with  that  woman  on  the  train. 
She  comes  to  attend  her  son's  wife,  who  is  sick." 

"  Oh,  the  lilakes,  then.  She  won't  have  much  to 
do,  Dan's  wife  died  to-day;  poor  beggar,  he  looks 
heartbroken." 

"  Your  wife  may  be  dead  some  day ;  then  you 
■will  know  how  dreadfully  he  feels,"  I  said,  hotly. 
The  flippant  tone  in  face  of  such  sorrow  distressed 
me.  He  gave  me  a  merry  look  as  he  said: 
"  There  are  always  plenty  left  to  replace  the  lost 
ones.  A  wife  is  far  easier  got  than  a  horse  ;  one 
like  Faery,  for  instance." 

I  shut  my  mouth  firmly  and  turned  my  head 
away  to  watch  the  white  sails  idly  mirrored,  in 
the  still  waters,  I  knew  he  was  furtively  watching 
me,  and  this  alone  held  bivck  my  tears,  as  I 
thought  of  poor  Blake's  desolate  hearthstone,  iis 
well  as  my  own  heart's  loneliness  in  this  wide  con- 
tinent of  strangers. 

"Mr.  Winthrop  regretted  being  away  when 
you  arrived,   but  he   expected   us  to  be  kind  to 


CO 

tei 

yo 

ab 

t0| 

he 


OBK. 

but  stniiigers 

aa  so  limited  I 

s,  I  longed  to 

b ;  for  even  he 

it. 

n  on  the  train. 

who  is  sick." 

t  have  much  to 

3ggar,  he  looks 

day ;  then  you 
"  I  said,  hotly. 
iTow  distressed 
Jis  he  said': 
place  the  lost 
I  a  horse  ;  one 

•ned  my  head 
r  mirrored,  in 
vely  watching 
ly  tears,  as  I 
learthstone,  iis 
this  wide  con- 

;  away  when 
to  be  kind  to 


■.-.iiwtat»wsrf*»«t*«^M=?ew^!ff!W?Wf' 


^J»-^' 


ifRS.  BLAKE. 


IT 


you ;  so  we  must  not  quarrel  first  thing."    My 
companion  said,  with  entire  change  of  tone. 

"  I  quarrel  pretty  easily,"  I  stammered,  "  my 
temper  is  very  abrupt." 

"  Most  of  us  have  quick  tempers ;  but,  I  think, 
you,  at  leafct,  have  a  generous  one." 

Then  I  recollected  abrupt  was  not  a  very  suit- 
able word  to  couple  with  temper.  Taken  al- 
together, I  found  this  drive  home  with  Faery  and 
her  master  anything  but  enjoyable. 

2 


da' 


CHAPTER  II. 


OAKLANDS. 


lAERY'S  head  was  turned  at  last  from  the 
wide,  dusty  street  into  an  imposing  gate- 
way, which  lead  through  an  avenue 
bordered  thickly  with  evergreens  mostly  pine  and 
hemlock.  "  These  trees  look  a  trifle  hot  in  sum- 
mer;  but  they  are  a  capital  protection  in  a  winter's 
storm,  I  assure  you,"  my  companion  said  with  an 
apologetic  air. 

I  could  think  of  no  suitable  reply ;  so  merely 
said,  "  yes." 

"  Its  a  tradition  among  their  acquaintances  that 
the  Winthrops  believe  in  getting  the  very  best 
possible  good  out  of  everything." 

"  Have  they  succeeded  ?  " 

"  Better  than  the  generality  of  folks ;  but  they 
have  come  pretty  near  extinction,  at  least  on  this 
side  the  water.  Mr.  Winthrop  is  the  last  of  his 
race." 

"  Has  he  no  children  ?  " 


ma 

wil 

1 

abl 

we: 


] 

to  i 
not 

StO( 

con 
wid 
ren 
anj 
I  t 
easi 
sho 
Fla 
the 
Th( 
whi 
wal 
lai's 
this 


at  last  from  the 
imposing  gate* 
gh  an  avenue 
mostly  pine  and 
ifle  hot  in  sum- 
ion  in  a  winter's 
3n  said  with  an 

iply;  so  merely 

;[uaintance8  that 
y  the  very  best 


folks;  but  they 

at  least  on  this 

3  the  last  of  his 


,r.~^i»*e^a^'-.^sisrsn:-sv!!er.i0i^ : 


OAKLAND  a. 


19 


"  He  is  a  bachelor." 

"  But  ho  may  have  children  and  a  wife  some 
day." 

"  You  will  probably  be  his  heir,  if  he  does  not 
marry,  I  believe  he  is  your  heir  by  your  fatherV 
will,  in  case  you  die  without  heirs." 

I  laughed  merrily.  "  He  will  outlive  me  prob- 
ably. What  good  would  his  money  do  me  if  I 
were  old,  or  maybe  dead  ?  " 

"  Your  children  might  enjoy  it." 

I  wondered  was  it  customary  in  this  country 
to  speculate  on  such  remote  possibilities,  but  said 
nothing.  We  soon  reached  the  house,  which 
stood  on  ground  elevated  to  command  a  magnifi- 
cent view  of  the  sea,  the  distant  headlands,  and  a 
wide  stretch  of  hill  and  dale.  The  house  itself 
reminded  me  more  of  old  world  buildings  than 
any  I  had  yet  seen  in  America ;  and,  on  the  spot, 
I  took  a  fancy  to  it,  and  felt  that  here  I  could 
easily  cultivate  the  home  feeling,  without  which  I 
should  still  be  a  wanderer  on  the  earth.  Mrs. 
Flaxman  was  standing  to  receive  me  as  I  ascended 
the  granite  steps  that  led  to  the  main  entrance. 
The  great  stone  house  had  wings  at  either  end 
while  deep  breaks  in  the  heavy  masonry  of  the 
walls  occurred  at  regular  intervals,  and  heavy  pil- 
lars of  granite  made  a  massive  background  for 
this  fair,  slight  woman  as  I  looked  at  her. 

"I    will   commit   Miss   Selwyn   to  your   care. 


20 


UKDOLISK  SELWYN'S  WOUK. 


iiiolher,  whilo   I  tiiko  a  little  longer  drive  with 
Faery,"  my  companion  said,  graciously. 

"  I  will  accept  your  trust  with  a  great  deal  of 
pleasure,  Hubert,"  she  said,  receiving  me  with  a 
cordiality  that  warmed  my  heart.  "  You  are  very 
welcome  home.  At  least,  I  hope  you  will  feel  at 
home  here." 

•   "  I  have  no  other,  now  that  I  have  left  school," 
I  said,  gravely. 

"  Young  ladies  do  not  often  waste  much  senti- 
ment on  their  boarding-school  home,  so  I  think  wo 
shall  succeed  in  making  you  content  here  with  us 
at  Oaklands." 

"  I  have  always  been  accustomed  to  find  my 
own  sources  of  content.  We  were  left  at  school 
to  amuse  ourselves  or  not,  as  we  willed." 

"  But  I  hope  we  shall  not  bo  so  indifferent  to 
your  pleasure.     Mr.  Winthrop  is  not  much  of  a 
society  man,  but  we  still  see  a  good  many  visitors." 
The  main  entrance  of  the  house  was  finer  than 
anything  I  had  remembered  to  have  seen,  and  at 
first  I  felt  quite  oppressed  by  the  grandeur  of  my 
surroundings ;  but  when  Mrs.  Flaxman  had  con- 
ducted me  to  my  own  room,  its  dainty  furnishings 
and  appointments  made  it  appear  to  me,  after  the 
plain  accommodations   of  the  school,  a  perfect 
bower  for  any  maiden.    I  went  to  one  of  the  deep 
windows  and  looked  out  over  the  splendid  stretch 
of  land  and  sea  scape  spread  before  me.    Drawing 


'I 


a 

ki 

w; 

w! 

in 


m 

W( 

Bi 

ail 


m 
be 

th 
th 
th 
th 

th 
te 
mi 
bi] 
sa 


WOJiK. 

r»ger  drive  with 
iiously. 

a  great  deal  of 
viiig  me  with  a 

"  You  are  very 
you  will  feel  at 

ave  left  school," 

[iste  much  sen  ti- 
ne, so  I  think  wo 
«nt  here  with  us 

med  to  find  ray 
re  left  at  school 
willed." 

so  indifferent  to 
H  not  much  of  a 
id  many  visitors." 
e  was  finer  than 
we  seen,  and  at 
grandeur  of  my 
laxmnn  had  con- 
iainty  furnishings 
•  to  me,  after  the 
jchool,  a  perfect 
o  one  of  the  deep 
e  splendid  stretch 
«re  me.    Drawing 


( 


OAKLANDS. 


21 


a  long  sigh  of  perfect  content,  I  exclaimed :  "  I 
know  I  shall  bo  happy  here.  How  could  I  help  it, 
with  such  pictures  to  h)ok  iit?  " 

"If  you  admire  the  scenery  so  much  at  first, 
what  will  your  sensations  bo  when  you  have 
grown  intimate  with  its  beauty  ?  Nature  enters 
into  our  humanity  liko  human  acquaintances." 

"  What  do  3'ou  mean  ?  "  I  asked,  much  mystified. 

"  There  are  some  places  like  some  people — the 
more  we  study  tliem  the  more  they  are  admired, 
we  are  continually  discovering  hidden  beauties. 
But  you  must  study  nature  closely,  at  all  hours 
and  seasons,  to  discover  her  subtle  cliarms." 

"  Won't  you  teach  mo  what  you  have  learned  ?  " 

"  If  I  can  do  so  I  shall  be  glad  ;  but  I  think  wo 
must  each  study  her  for  ourselves.  She  has  no  text 
books  that  I  have  ever  seen." 

"  I  wonder  do  we  all  see  things  alike  ?  Does 
that  sea,  now  a  sheet  of  rose  and  amethyst,  and 
the  sky  that  seems  another  part  of  the  same,  and 
the  green  trees,  and  hills,  and  rocks,  look  to  you  as 
they  do  to  me  ?  " 

*'  Not  yet,  my  child.  When  you  have  studied 
them  as  long,  and  have  the  memories  of  years  clus- 
tering around  each  well-remembered  spot,  they 
may  look  the  same  to  you  as  they  now  do  to  me ; 
but  not  till  then,"  she  added,  I  fancied  a  little 
sadly. 

"Probably  I  shall  enjoy  this  exquisite   view 


1 


29  MShoLis  A"  .s  K  /,  in-  iV '  k  wohk. 

better  without  the  niciiuirics  ;  tliey  UHually  hold  u 

Btiiig." 

-N^  »*  Tluvt  (lepondH  on  tho  way   wo   nso  lift!.     To 
live  art  (io«l  wills,  loivvcs  iiosliii^,'  i'or  after  tlnm;,'lit." — 

"Not  if  death  comcH  and  takt-s  our  Invcd  oiuis? 
How  alone  I  am  in  the  world  bccauso  of  him." 

"  There  arc  far  Hmhler  exixMlcncert  than  yours. 
Death  is  not  ulways  our  worst  enemy  ;  we  may 
have  ft  death  in  life,  compared  with  whieh  Death 
itself  is  an  angel  of  light." 

"  Oh,  what  a  strange,  sad  thing  life  is  at  the 
best  I  Is  it  worth  Injing  born  and  suffering  so 
much  for  all  the  joy  we  find  ?  " 

"  No,  indeed,  if  this  life  were  all ;  hut  it  is  only 
the  faint  dawn  of  a  brighter,  grander  existence, 
more  worthy  the  gift  of  a  God." 

"  IJut  we  must  die  to  get  to  that  fuller,  higher 
ll'o ;  "  I  said,  suddenly  remembering  poor  lilako's 
dead  wife. 

She  smiled  compassionately. 
"  It  is  hard  convincing  you  young  people  that 
even  death  may  bo  a  tender  friend,  a  welcome 
messenger.  But  we  won't  talk  in  this  strain  any 
longer,  I  scarce  know  why  we  drifted  into  it.  I 
want  your  first  impressions  of  home  to  be  joyous, 
for  they  are  apt  to  haunt  us  long  after  we  make 
the  discovery  that  they  were  not  correct. 

"  I  wonder  if  you  are  not  something  of  a  phil- 
osopher ?    I  never  heard  any  one  talk  just  like  you." 


w 


h 

a 

R 

o 
b 

8 

a 
u 

tl 
ti 

n 
a 
f( 
li 

f 
i 

r 
li 
f 
c 

y 

i 


yoitK. 

'  usually  li(»l(l  u 

0    uso   lir(!.     Tl) 

niftiT  lli()ujj;lit." 

our  liivi'tl  onoH? 
lusn  (if  hiiu." 
iiCL'8  tliiiu  yours. 
enemy  ;  wo  may 
th  whioh  Dentil 

ing  life  is  at  tlio 
iinil  suffering  ho 

11 ;  but  it  is  «)nly 
liimlei'  existenee, 

hat  fuller,  liighor 
ring  poor  lilivko's 

roung  people  that 
•iend,  n  welcome 
u  this  strain  any 
irifted  into  it.  I 
ome  to  be  joyous, 
ng  after  we  make 
correct. 

ething  of  a  phil- 
i,alk  just  like  you." 


OAK  LANDS. 


2A 


W 


''Certainly  not  iinyLliing  so  formidable,  and 
learned  as  lliut.  I  am  only  a  plain  little  woman, 
with  no  special  miHsiuii  oxcept  to  nuiko  thusu 
around  me  happy." 

'•  That  is  a  very  beautiful  misshju,  and  I  am 
sure  you  meet  with  success,  which  is  nut  the  fate 
of  every  ona  with  a  career." 

"  Ah,  if  you  begin  praising  me  I  must  leave  ; 
but  fust  let  nje  tell  you  dinner  will  bo  served  at 
six.  Mr.  Winthrop  is  a  great  student,  and  is 
already,  for  so  young  a  man,  a  very  successful 
author ;  and  ho  likes  dinner  lato  so  as  to  have  all 
the  longer  time  for  hard  work,  Tho  evenings  ho 
takes  for  light  reading  and  rest." 

I  nuist  confess  I  was  beginning  to  get  afraid  of 
my  guardian.  I  expected  to  lind  him  in  mannera 
and  appearance  something  like  our  school  pro- 
fessors, with  a  tendency  to  criticise  my  slender 
literary  acquirements. 

However  I  proceeded  with  my  toilet  quite  cheer- 
fully, and  was  rather  glad  than  sorry  that  I  hrtd 
found  him  absent  from  Oaklands  ;  but  after  I  left 
my  room  and  wandered  out  into  the  dim,  spacious 
hall  and  down  tho  long  stairway,  the  heavy,  old- 
fashioned  splendors  of  the  house  chilled  me.  How 
could  I  occupy  mysek  happily  through  the  coming 
years  in  this  great,  gloomy  house?  I  vaguely 
wondered,  while  life  stretched  out  before  my 
imagination,  in  long  svnd  tiresome  perspective. 


24 


MEDOLINE  SELWYN'8  WORK. 


With  no  school  duties  to  occupy  my  time,  my 
knowledge  of  amusements,  needlework,  or  any 
other  of  the  softer  feminine  accomplishments,  ex- 
ceedingly limited,  I  was  suddenly  confronted  with 
the  problem  how  I  was  to  fdl  up  the  days  and 
years  with  any  degree  of  satisfaction.  Hitherto 
every  thought  had  been  strained  eagerly  towards 
this  home  coming.  After  that  fancy  was  a  blank. 
Now  I  had  got  here,  what  then  ?  I  had  been  a 
fairly  industrious  pupil  and  graduated  with  com- 
mendable success ;  but  it  had  been  a  tradition  at 
our  school  that  once  away  from  its  confinement, 
text-books  and  the  weariness  of  study  were  at  an 
end.  I  went  out  on  the  lawn,  and  was  standing,  a 
trifle  homesick  for  the  companionship  of  the  merry 
crowd  of  schoolmates,  when  a  side  glance  revealed 
to  me  an  immense  cfarden,  such  as  I  had  often 
seen,  but  not  near  euuugh  to  sufficiently  enjoy.  I 
soon  forgot  my  lonely  fancies  as  I  strayed  admir- 
inglj'  through  the  well  kept  walks,  amid  beds  of 
old-fashioned  sweet  smelling  flowers,  which  now- 
a-days  are  for  the  most  part  are  relegated  to  the 
humble  cottages  ;  but  farther  on  I  discovered  the 
rarer  plants  of  many  climes,  some  of  them  old  ac- 
quaintances, but  others  utter  strangers,  only  so  far 
as  I  could  remember  some  of  them  from  my  lessons 
in  botany.  Still  stretching  beyond  on  the  hill  sido 
I  saw  the  vegetable  and  fruit  gardens.  Huge  straw- 
berry beds  attracted  me,  the  ripe  fruit  I  found  tempt- 


'^S!SBaS:«W«J" 


WORK. 

py  my  time,  my 
(llework,  or  any 
•mplishments,  ex- 
■  confronted  with 
up  the  days  and 
iction.  Hitherto 
eagerly  towards 
ncy  was  a  blank. 
?  I  had  been  a 
luatcd  with  coni- 
3en  a  tradition  at 
its  confinement, 
itudy  were  at  an 
d  was  standing,  a 
ship  of  the  merry 
3  glance  revealed 
I  as  I  had  often 
ciently  enjoy.  I 
I  strayed  admir- 
ks,  amid  beds  of 
rers,  which  now- 
relegated  to  the 
I  discovered  the 
)  of  them  old  ac- 
iigers,  only  so  far 
I  from  my  lessons 
d  on  the  hill  sido 
ens.  Huge  straw- 
ait  I  found  tempt- 


OAKLAND^. 


25 


ing;  but  feeling  still  a  stranger,  the  old  weakness 
that  comes  down  to  us  from  Mother  Eve  to  reach 
forth  and  pluck,  was  restrained.  "  What  a  perfect 
Eden  it  is !  "  I  could  not  help  exclaiming,  though 
no  ears  save  the  birds,  and  multitudinous  insects  ex- 
istences, were  withh)  reach  of  my  voice,  and  prob- 
ably for  the  latter,  any  sound  I  could  make  would 
be  as  luiheard  by  them  as  the  music  of  the  spheres 
must  be  to  me  until  another  body,  with  finer 
intuitions  to  catch  such  liarmonies,  shall  be  pro- 
vided. Ere  the  dinner  bell  rang  I  found  a  new 
wonderland  of  beauty  reaching  aw.ay  beyond  me. 
To  watch  from  early  spring  till  winter's  icy  breath 
destroyed  them,  these  multiplied  varieties  of  vegv.- 
table  life  gradually  passing  through  all  their 
beautiful  changes  of  bud  and  blossom,  and  ripened 
seed  or  fruit  would  be  a  training  in  some  respects, 
equalling  that  of  the  schools.  What  higher  lessons 
in  botany  I  might  take,  day  by  day  exploring  the 
secrets  of  plant  life  !  I  went  back  to  the  house  in 
a  happier  mood  than  I  had  left  it.  At  the  dinner 
table  I  expressed,  no  doubt  with  amusing  enthu- 
siasm, my  gladness  at  this  garden  of  delight. 

"  You  should  become  a  practical  botanist,  Miss 
Selwyn.  But  then  your  heart  might  prove  too 
tender  to  tear  your  pets  to  pieces  in  order  to  find 
out  their  secrets." 

"  I  did  not  know  my  heart  was  specially  tender.' 
"  I  only  judged  so  from  your  sympathy  for  the 


;['  i 


26 


JiBDOLINE  SELWYN'S  WORK. 


I 


I 


Blakes.  Only  think,  mothei,  Miss  Sclwyn  was 
prophesying  the  time  when  I  should  be  mourning 
over  a  departed  wife." 

"  You  must  not  mind  Hubert,  Miss  Sclwyn.  Ho 
is  a  sad  tease,  as  wo  all  find  to  our  sorrow.  Ho 
has  not  had  brothers  or  sisters  since  his  childhood 
to  teacli  liini  gentleness." 

"  Only  children  are  apt  to  be  not  very  agreeable 
companions.  We  had  some  unplcjisaut  specimens 
at  school." 

"  That  is  too  hard  on  both  of  us,  Miss  Selwyn," 
he  said  ;  **  but  I  must  prove  to  you  that  I,  at  least, 
am  a  beautiful  exception  to  the  general  rule." 

For  the  first  time  I  looked  up  at  him  closely,  and 
was  struck  with  the  handsome  merry  face. 

"Witli  a  very  little  effort  you  could  make  your- 
self very  agreeable,  I  am  sure,"  I  said,  with  all 
seriousness. 

Even^^Mrs.  Flaxman  could  not  conceal  her  amuse- 
ment at  my  remark. 

"It  is  so  refreshing  to  meet  with  such  a  frank 
young  lady,"  Hubert  said,  with  downcast  eyes.  I 
had  a  suspicion  he  was  laughing  at  me.  Presently 
he  glanced  at  me,  when  I  found  the  fun  in  his 
eyes  contagious,  and,  though  at  my  own  expense, 
indulged  in  a  heart}'  laugh. 

"  I  wish  you  would  tell  me  wheu  I  make  myself 
ridiculous.  I  do  not  understand  boys'  natures.  I 
scarce  remember  to  have  spoken  a  dozen  consec- 


<l 


ORK. 

88  Sclwyn  was 
Id  be  mourning 

5S  Sclwyn.  Ho 
ir  sorrow.  Ho 
)  his  childhood 

very  agreeable 
isaut  specimens 

Miss  Selwyn," 
that  I,  at  least, 
leral  rule." 
lim  closely,  and 
:y  face. 

uld  make  your- 
said,  with  all 

ceal  her  amuse- 

1  such  a  frank 
rncast  eyes.  I 
me.  Presently 
the  fun  in  his 
r  own  expense, 

I  make  myself 
»ys'  natures.  I 
.  dozen  consec- 


B«n«af  •  iT«v.j,i(ittaMBr-'S(SKSiirSf:?!JC^a*E', 


1| 


0AKLAND8. 


27 


utive  sentences  to  one  in  my  life.  All  our  Profes- 
sors were  more  or  less  gmy,  and  they  every  one  wore 
spectiicles." 

"They  must  been  an  interesting  lot,"  Hubert 
said,  with  a  lack  of  his  usual  animation.  When  I 
was  longer  with  him  I  discovered  that  the  open 
space  in  his  armor  was  to  be  regarded  a  boy. 

"  But,  no  doubt  they  were  all  young  and  mis- 
chievous once.  The  soberest  horse  in  Belgium 
frisked  around  it's  mother  in  its  colthood,  no 
doubt." 

"  You  will  see  plenty  of  poor  horses  in  America," 
Mrs.  Flaxman  said.  "  Faery  is  by  no  means  a 
typical  horse." 

"  Faery's  master  loves  her.  That  makes  a  world 
of  difference  with  the  ownership  of  other  things 
than  horses." 

"Really,  Miss  Selwyn,  you  can  moralize  on 
every  subject,  I  believe,  with  equal  ease." 

"  He  is  making  fun  of  me  again,  I  presume,"  I 
said,  turning  to  Mi-s.  Flaxman.  "When  I  talk  a 
longer  time  with  you  English-speaking  i)eople,  I 
shall  not  be  so  open  to  ridicule.  Some  day,  Mr. 
Hubert,  I  may  meet  you  in  Germany,  and  then  I 
shall  be  able  to  retaliate. 

"  Before  that  time  comes  you  will  be  generous 
enough  to  return  good  for  evil." 

"  And  when  shall  you  get  your  punishment 
then?" 


fxm 


28  MEDOLINE  SELWYN'8  WORK, 

"  Maybe  never.  I  find  a  good  many  evil-doers 
get  off  scot  free  iu  this  world. 

"  But  there  are  other  worlds  than  this,  my  son,"  his 
mother  said,  with  sucli  sweet  seriousness  that  our 
badinage  ceased  for  that  evening. 


UK. 

lany  evil-doers 

lis,  my  son,"  his 
sness  that  our 


^'^K&ii'saamim-'s^a^a^lsii^Sg^^'^ 


H 


CHAPTER  III. 


ESMEBELDA. 


|HE  next  morning  I  was  early  astir.  I  was 
eager  to  explore  the  grounds  around  Oak- 
lauds,  as  well  as  the  beaches  and  caves 
where  the  waves  penetrated  far  under  the  rocks  at 
high  tide.  The  grounds  I  found  very  extensive — in 
places  almost  like  some  of  the  old  English  parks 
which  I  had  seen  on  my  visits  there  to  distant 
relatives  during  the  holidays.  It  was  pleasant  to 
think  while  wandering  utider  the  trees,  and  over  the 
splendid  wastes  of  flowers,  and  ornamental  shrubs, 
and  trees,  that  in  this  wide,  vast  America  no  one 
need  be  defrauded  of  his  portion  of  mother  earth 
by  this  immense  flower  garden  ;  since  there  was 
more  tlian  sufficient  land  for  every  anxious  toiler. 
To  me  there  was  an  exceeding  luxury  in  this 
reflection ;  for  often  on  those  lovely  Kentish  estates 
where  I  had  visited,  my  heart  had  been  grieved 
by  the  extremes  of  wealth  and  squalor.  Pinched- 
faced  women  and  children  gazing  hungrily  through 


30 


MEDOLINE  SELWYN'B  WORK. 


park  gates  at  the  flowers,  and  fountains,  and  all  the 
l)cauty  within,  while  they  had  no  homes  worthy 
the  name,  and  alas  !  no  flowers  or  fountains  to 
gladden  their  beauty  hungered  hearts.  My  friends 
used  to  smile  at  my  saddened  face  as  I  looked  in 
these  other  hunuau  faces  with  a  pitying  sense  of 
sisterhood,  that  was  strange  to  them ;  but  they 
Immored  my  desire  to  try  and  gladden  these  lives 
so  limited  in  their  happy  allotments,  by  gifts  of 
rare  flowers  and  choice  fruits.  But  I  used  to  find 
the  old-fashioned  flowers,  that  the  gardeners  grum 
bled  least  over  my  plucking,  were  the  most  welcome. 

At  luncheon  I  came  in,  my  hair  sea-blown 
fiom  my  visit  to  the  rocks,  and  my  face  finely 
burnt  by  the  combined  influence  of  wind  and  sun. 
I  expressed  to  Mrs.  Flaxman  a  desire  to' visit  my 
new  acquaintance  on  the  Mill  Road.  I  noticed  a 
peculiar  uplifting  of  the  eyebrows  as  I  glanced 
towards  Hubert. 

"It  will  be  something  entirely  new  in  Mill 
Road  experience  to  have  a  friendly  call  from  one 
of  our  Cavendish  Slite." 

"  Why,  Hubert,"  his  mother  remonstrated,  "  it 
is  not  an  unusual  thing  for  our  friends  to  visit 
the  poor  and  sick  on  the  Mill  Road,  as  well  as  in 
tlie  other  humbler  districts." 

"Doubtless,  but  in  much  the  same  fashion  as 
Queen  Elizabeth  used  to  visit  her  subjects — mere 
royal  progresses,  more  bother  than  blessing.    Miss 


-JiWi'j.  swil«W»«flTC!raW3!JE^^8tSSlS&**'i^ 


)BK. 

ins,  and  all  the 
lonies  worthy 
•r  fountains  to 
ts.  My  friends 
as  I  looked  in 
tying  sense  of 
lem ;  but  they 
ien  these  lives 
ts,  by  gifts  of 
,  I  used  to  find 
irdeners  grum 
I  most  welcome, 
air  sea-blown 
my  face  finely 
wind  and  sun. 
re  to' visit  my 
I.  I  noticed  a 
as  I  glanced 

new  in  Mill 
call  from  one 

lonstrated,  "it 
triends  to  visit 
d,  as  well  as  in 

ime  fashion  as 
subjects — mere 
blessing.    Miss 


ESMERELDA. 


31 


Sclwyn,  I  fancy,  will  go  there  in  a  friendly  sort 
of  way,  that  even  Dan  will  appreciate." 

"  Oh,  thank  you,  Hubert;  but  possibly,  if  I  quite 
comprehended  your  meaning,  I  should  be  more 
provoked  tiian  complimented." 

"  Well,  if  I  was  one  of  the  poor  ones  I  would 
like  your  visits  best.  I  would  be  willing  to 
dispense  with  the  dignity  for  sake  of  the  friend- 
liness that  would  recognize  that  I  too  had  a  com- 
mon brotherhood  with  the  highest  as  well  as  the 
lowest." 

"  Ah,  I  comprehend  your  meaning  now,  and  I 
won't  get  angry  with  you.  I  tljink  I  must  be  a 
changeling,  in  spirit  probably ;  there  could  be  no 
mistake,  1  presume,  in  my  physical  identity,  but  my 
heart  always  claims  kindred  most  with  the  lean, 
hungry  faces." 

"You  could  soon  make  my  eyes  watery,  I  do 
believe,"  Hubert  said,  with  a  gentleness  that  sur- 
prised me. 

I  saw  Mrs.  Flaxman  quietly  drying  her  eyes  and 
wondered  why  my  few,  simple  words  sliould  touch 
their  tear  fountain. 

Towards  evening  I  started  on  my  walk  to 
the  Mill  Road.  The  gardener  had  very  gracious- 
ly allowed  me  to  gather  some  flowers  to  take  with 
me.  These  I  had  arranged  with  some  wet  mosses 
I  found  in  the  woods  that  morning  ;  and  begging  a 
nice  little  basket  from  the  housekeeper,  had  them 


.  fl 


32 


MEDOLINE  SELWTN'8  WORK. 


very  daintily  ftnaiiged.  WIkmi  I  ciime  downstaira 
equipped  for  my  walk,  I  found  a  very  stylish  young 
lady  standing  in  tlio  hall  beside  Mrs.  riaxnian. 

"  Esmerelda  will  show  you  the  way.  I  scarcely 
feel  equal  for  sucli  a  walk  this  hot  day,  and  I 
know  you  will  kindly  excuse  me." 

"  Oh  certainly ;  it  would  trouke  me  to  have 
you  walk  any  distance  when  you  look  so  fmil." 

"  I  am  not  frail,  dear  ;  but  I  have  got  into  an  idle 
habit  of  taking  my  outings  in  the  carriage  ;  and  so 
walking  soon  tires  mo." 

I  turned  towards  the  young  lady,  who  in  a  very 
graceful,  dignified  way  seemed  to  be  awaiting  my 
pleasure.  I  could  not  believe  she  was  a  servant, 
and  felt  quite  shabby  when  I  compared  my  own 
costume  with  hers. 

When  we  were  walking  down  the  avenue  I  ven- 
tured a  remark  or  two  on  the  beauty  of  the  place  ; 
but  she  answered  me  with  such  proud  reserve  I 
suddenly  relapsed  into  silence  which  remained  un- 
broken until  we  reached  Mrs.  Blake's  door.  While 
I  stood  knocking  at  the  front  door  Esmerelda 
slipped  around  to  the  back  of  the  cottage  where  a 
rough,  board  porch  served  as  entrance  for  every 
day  occasions.  Mrs.  Blake  met  me  with  genuine 
cordiality,  and  then  led  me  into  a  close  smelling 
room.  The  iloor  was  covered  with  a  cheap  carpet, 
a  few  common  chairs,  a  very  much  worn  horse-hair 
sofa,  and  a  table  covered  with  a  very  new,  and 


w 

CJ! 

sa 
lei 
w: 
til 
cr 
pr 
th 
an 
th 
th 
be 

M 

frc 


de 
sh 


N< 


wl 
th 
wt 


>RK. 

lie  downstairs 
r  stylish  young 
,.  riivxniiin. 
ly.     I  scarcely 
ot  day,  and  I 

0  me  to  have 
ok  so  fmil." 
jot  into  an  idle 
irriage ;  and  so 

,  who  in  a  very 

36  awaiting  my 

was  a  servant, 

pared  my  own 

e  avenue  I  ven- 

,y  of  the  place  ; 

)roud  reserve  I 

h  remained  un- 

's  door.     While 

Loor  Esmerelda 

ottage  where  a 

ance  for  every 

le  with  genuine 

close  smelling 

a  cheap  carpet, 

worn  horse-hair 

very  new,  aud 


ESMKRKLDA. 


ns 


very  gay-looking  clotli,  comprised  the  furnishing, 
with  the  exception  of  walls  decorated  with  cheap 
chromos  in  the  most  wonderful  frames  I  ever 
saw, — some  of  them  made  of  shells,  some  of 
leather,  some  of  moss,  and  others  simply  covered 
with  bright  pieces  of  chintz.  I  longed  to  arrange 
them  in  more  orderly  fivshion.  They  were  hanging 
crooked  or  too  close  together,  not  one  of  them  in  a 
proper  way  I  decided,  as  I  took  a  swift  survey  of 
the  room.  But  presently  my  gaze  was  arrested, 
and  all  thought  of  pictures  hung  awry  ceased ;  for 
there,  in  a  darkened  corner  of  the  room,  I  traced 
the  rigid  outlines  of  a  human  figure  concealed 
beneath  a  sheet. 

"You  brought  these  to  put  round  the  co  pse?" 
Mrs.  Blake  questioned,  suddenly  bringing  me  back 
from  my  startled  reverie. 

"  Yes,  if  you  would  care  for  them." 

She  lifted  them  out  of  the  basket  with  a  ten- 
derness that  surprised  me,  and  placed  them  in  water ; 
she  sat  looking  at  them  intently. 

"  Do  you  admire  flowers  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Oh,  yes ;  but  they're  useless  things,  I  s'pose. 
No  good  once  they're  wilted." 

"  But  they  are  perfect  while  they  last." 

"  Yes,  and  I  alius  feels  sorry  for  the  poor  things, 
when  I  see  'em  put  round  a  corpse  and  buried  in 
the  ground ;  may  be  they  have  more  feeling  than 
we  allow  for." 

a 


34 


MKDOLINE  SELWTN'a  WORK. 


Sho  spoke  so  sadly,  I  felt  my  eyes  moisten  ;  but 
whether  it  wiis  out  of  pity  for  the  llowers,  the  poor 
dead  woman  lying  opposite,  or  my  friend  Mrs. 
Dliike,  who  seemed  striiugcly  subdued,  I  could  not 
tell. 

"Sho  was  gone  when  I  got  here,"  sho  said, 
nodding  her  head  at  the  corpse.  "  Dau'el's  terrible 
cut  up  ;  it  minds  me  so  of  the  time  wo  lost  our  first 
baby.  I  had  to  do  everything  then  and  I've  got 
to  do  the  same  now." 

"  I  presume  she  was  a  very  good  wife." 

"  I  don't  know.  Men  generally  frets  hardest 
after  the  uselessest  ones.  I  s'poso  it's  because 
they're  easy-going  and  good-natured  ;  but  laws, 
I  mustn't  be  hard.  Mother-in-laws  don't  see  with 
their  children's  eyes.  I  often  think,  in  some  ways, 
'twould  be  best  for  one  generation  to  die  off  afore 
the  next  takes  their  place.  It's  a  mercy  we  don't  live 
like  they  did  in  the  first  of  Bible  times.  For  poor 
women  folk's  life  ain't  much  after  fifty  any  way, 
specially  if  they're  depending  on  their  children. 
Hard  work,  shoved  in  a  corner,  and  the  bito  you 
eat  begrudged  you." 

"Surely  you  don't  speak  from  experience,"  I 
gasped,  quite  horrified. 

"Me?  Oh,  no.  I've  managed  better'n  most  in 
my  way  of  life.  I  help,  instead  of  getting  help. 
But  I'm  not  thinking  of  myself  all  the  time.  I 
see  other  women's  hardships,  and  pity  'em  too." 


.i 


e 

o 

b 

d 
s^ 
u 

b 
t( 


Ol 


til 
fe 
m 


Bi 


WORK. 

cs  mointen  ;  but 
llowers,  the  poor 
my  frieiu.l  Mr«. 
lued,  I  could  uot 

liorc,"  alio  said, 

Drtu'el's  terriblo 

I  wo  lost  our  first 

en  and  I've  got 

d  wife." 

ily  frets  hardest 
)so  it's  because 
ured  ;  but  laws, 
ra  don't  see  with 
ik,  ill  some  ways, 

I  to  die  off  afore 
srcy  we  don't  live 
times.  For  poor 
sr  fifty  any  way, 

II  their  children, 
and  the  bito  you 


n  experience, 


I 


better'n  most  in 
I  of  getting  help, 
all  the  time.     I 
pity  'em  too." 


.{ 


E8MERKLDA, 


88 


She  turned  the  conversati.tri  abruptly  by  asking: 
"  Would  you  like  to  see  Iho  corpse?" 
I   certainly   wished   to  see  almost  anything  on 
earth  rather  than   that;   but,   lest   I   should  Iw 
offending  the  proprieties,  I  followed  her  and  stood 
beside   the  still,  outstretched  form.     She  turned 
down  the  sheet  when,  for  an  instant,  my  head 
swam ;  and  then  I  shut  firmly  my  eyes  and  stood 
until  I  concluded  the  ghastly  spectacle  was  hidden 
behind  the  sheet.     Mrs.  Blake's  voice  caused  me 
to  open  my  eyes  with  a  start. 
"Be  you  faint?" 

I  crossed  the  room  directly,  and  sat  down  before 
I  replied. 

*' Certainly  not;  but  the  sight  was  a  painful 
one." 

"  I  know  there's  a  sight  of  difference  in  corpses. 
Perfessors  of  religion  make  the  i)eace  fullest." 

"Was  she  not  one?" 

"Well,  no  ;  and  she  was  took  so  bad  she  hadn't 
time  to  perfess.  Beside  Dan'el  tells  me  she  suf- 
fered uncommon  till  the  very  last  breath,  that 
makes  her  look  more  distressin'  than  she  would." 

"  Is  he  a  professor  ?  " 

"  No,  my  family  didn't  seem  to  lean  that  way. 
But  my !  they  was  a  sight  l)etter'n  some  that  did 
lot  on  they  was  very  good." 

"  He  will  become  a  Christian  now,  surely." 

"Tain't   likely.     One  soon  forgets  the  feelins 


:'«;.'^r  i 


86  UKhOUNE  RELWYN'H  WORK. 

death  Ioiivoh,  and  tlicii  wo  nil  look  for  a  qniotfipoll 
ftfoit!  wo  die."  I  ftdt  as  if  hkolotoi-.  tinK<'>H  wero 
cliitchiiif?  at  my  vitals ;  and  altogether  terrified  I 

rose  to  go. 

"  The  funeral  will  bo  to-morrow  at  two  o'clock  ; 
perliajjs  you  wouldn't  mind  coming?" 

»'If  you  would  like  mo  to  attend,  I  wdl  do  so." 

"  I  don't  know  why  it  Ih,  but  8eom8  to  me  it 
would  be  a  comfort  to  have  you.  Quality  always 
could  touch  my  heart  better'n  my  own  kind." 

"  You  may  bo  reckoned  among  that  claau  in  the 
next  world." 

She  8t(.od  in  the  doorway,  her  eyes  turned  wist- 
fully towards  the  setting  sun.  "  1  hain't  thought 
much  alK>ut  that  world.  I  know  it's  a  mistake  to 
live  as  I've  done." 

I  wished  so  much  I  could  recommend  her  to  a 
better  way  of  life  ;  but  remembering  that  I  too 
wtis  living  only  for  this  world,  I  could  say  nothing. 

Pressing  her  ha  '  gently  I  turned  to  leave, 
when  I  saw  Esnuaelda  coming  out  of  the  door 

after  me. 

The  rigid  form  I  had  looked  at  and  Mrs.  Blake's 
words  had  softened  my  heart ;  so  I  tried  once 
more  to  chat  jdeivsantly  with  my  escort ;  but  prob- 
ably she  had  not  got  the  same  lesson  as  I,  for  she 
put  on  as  many  airs  as  before.  When  I  met  Mre. 
Flaxman  I  inquired  what  Esmorelda's  position  was 
in  the  household.     To  my  astonishment  she  said : 


ti 

fn 


tl: 
n( 

01 

hi 
til 
A 

tr 

d< 
th 
sc 

to 

Ol 

re 
\v 
d( 


VORK. 

for  a  qniot  spoil 
(II'.  tingcis  weio 
[ether  terrified  I 

at  two  o'clock  ; 

1, 1  will  do  BO." 
Rccins  to  nio  it 
Quality  ulwaya 
own  kind." 

that  claMti  in  the 

•yea  turned  vist- 
I  hiiin't  thought 
it's  a  niiatake  to 

mmend  her  to  a 

)ering  that  I  too 

louldsay  nothing. 

turned  to  leave, 

out  of  the  door 

,  and  Mrs.  Blake's 
so  I  tried  once 
escort ;  but  prob- 
jsson  as  I,  for  she 
When  I  met  Mre. 
jlda's  position  was 
slnnent  she  said : 


KSMKUKl.DA. 


n 


"She  is  tho  cluunluMiiiaid." 

"Ihit  isslio  a  lady  ?" 

*'  Every  one  that  i-an  dress  Itcconiinj^ly  olainiH  that 
title  with  us;  I  presume  IvsnitTclda  with  llio  rest." 

"But  luT  niotlier?"  I  left  llio  sentence  un- 
finished. 

"  Lives  on  Mill  Uoad  and  takes  in  washing." 

"Don't  you  think  it  is  wiser  lo  keep  servants  in 
their  proper  place  as  they  do  in  Kuropo?  One  is 
not  in  danger  there  of  mistaking  maid  for  mistress." 

"Ah,  that  is  a  problem  for  wiser  heads  than 
ours  to  solve.  Each  system  has  its  grievances  ;  if 
Iiuman  nature  had  not  suffered  so  seviirely  from 
tho  original  transgression  I  should  favor  tho 
American  plan." 

"But  it  has'  fallen,  and  requires  generations  of 
training  to  fit  one  for  such  assumption  of  dignity." 

"  Even  so,  we  come  on  debatable  ground.  Where 
do  you  find  longer  lines  of  trained  generations 
than  in  those  Royal  families  that  cost  3'ou8o  much 
so  support,  and  what  do  many  of  them  amount 
to  ?  Plow  many  of  them  would  it  take  to  make 
one  Lincoln  ?  Ho  was  a  peasant's  son,  as  they 
reckon  rank." 

"  But  there  are  not  many  Lincolns ;  and  I  fear 
we  can  find  a  good  many  Esmereldas." 

"  She  is  a  very  good  chambermaid.  What  fault 
do  you  find  with  her  ?  " 

I  smiled,  though  utterly  discomfited. 


I  ,    I 


M"  ' 


■m 


38 


MEDOLINE  SELWry'S  nOHK. 


I, IS 


a 

i 


if 

f 


I- 

s 


"A  fault  one  cannot  easily  forgive.  She  im- 
presses me  with  her  own  superiority,  especially  in 
the  matter  of  dress." 

"Yes,  our  shop  and  servant  girls  are  usually 
good  artists  in  the  matter  of  personal  attire  ;  but 
I  usually  find  the  really  clever  ones  are  the  poorest 
dressers." 

"  Is  not  that  the  case  with  others  than  they  ? 
Persons  who  have  more  enduring  objects  of  con- 
templation than  peraonal  attire  do  not  bestow 
enough  time  on  how  they  shall  robe  themselves  to 
excel  in  dressing  artistically." 

"I  know  that;  but  since  Eve's  fig-leaf  invention 
the  matter  of  dress  has  been  an  absorbing  one  for 
nearly  every  generation." 

"  In  the  main ;  but  there  have  been  beautiful 
exceptions  all  down  the  long  stream  of  the  ages. 
I  met  some  literary  women  the  last  time  I  was 
visiting  in  England,  and  their  minds  seemed  so  far 
superior  to  their  bodies,  or  the  clothes  they  wore, 
that  ever  since  I  have  been  ashamed  of  myself 
when  I  get  particularly  interested  in  what  I  am  to 
wear." 

"  You  are  young,  my  child,  to  begin  to  philoso- 
phize on  the  matter  of  clothes.  You  have  read 
Sartor  Resai*tus  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  and  I  want  to  be  something  better 
than  a  mere  biped,  without  feathers." 


!i 


nOHK. 

•rgive.  She  ini- 
ity,  especially  in 

iris  are  usually 
onal  attire  ;  but 
s  are  the  poorest 

hers  than  they  ? 
^  objects  of  con- 
do   not   bestow 
be  themselves  to 

fig-leaf  invention 
bsorbiiig  one  for 

3  been  beautiful 
3am  of  the  ages, 
last  time  I  was 
Ids  seemed  so  far 
othes  they  wore, 
lamed  of  myself 
.  in  what  I  am  to 

begin  to  philoso- 
You  have  read 

something  better 
rs." 


•'•^r-l»»rr^sI«^■ci«!Sa^^«mralB^i';«Rii3!B!9^S»B^^ 


V!^ 


ESMER  ELDA. 


39 


"  To  want  is  the  first  step  toward  the  accomplish- 
ment. I  think  you  will  suit  Mr.  Winthrop  after 
he  gets  to  know  you,  if  ever  he  does,"  she  added) 
after  a  pause. 


W 


I    I     in 


I 


■'m 


'if'  .' 
■ill' 


I 


CHAPTER  IV. 


THE   FUNEllAL. 


HHE  next  morning  I  went  in  search  of  Mrs. 
Fluxnmn.  I  found  her  busy  superin- 
tending, along  with  tlie  housekeeper, 
some  extensive  pickling  and  i)reserving  operations. 
I  hesitated  at  first  in  making  my  request ;  I  wanted 
her  to  accompany  me  to  the  funeral. 

"  I  promised  Mrs.  Blake  to  go  to  her  daughter's 
funeral  to-day,  and  I  should  so  much  like  to  have 
you  go  with  me,"  I  said. 

"If  you  would  like  my  company,  your  liking 
shall  be  gratified,  my  dear." 

"But  you  looked  tired,  and  it  is  such  a  hot 
day." 

"  I  shall  want  folk  to  come  and  get  me  safely 
planted  away  some  day,  and  we  can  take  the  car- 
riage. Thomas  will  be  glad  to  go ;  at  least  he 
always  wants  to  attend  funerals.  Such  persons 
usually  are  fond  of  the  mild  excitement  attendant 
on  such  gatherings." 


n  search  of  Mrs. 
r  busy  superin- 
10  housekeeper, 
rving  operations, 
(quest ;  I  wanted 
•al. 

;o  her  daughter's 
iich  like  to  have 

Einy,  your  liking 

it  is  such  a  hot 

d  get  me  safely 
[in  take  the  car- 
go ;  at  least  he 
.  Such  persons 
;enjent  attendant 


THE  FUNERAL. 


■'  1 


41 


I  went  in  search  of  Thomas,  who  was  with 
coachman  and  gardener,  having  a  lad  to  assist  him 
in  both  occupations.  He  assured  me  that  work 
was  very  pressing,  and  it  would  be  at  considerable 
personal  sacrifice  if  he  went.  The  stable  boy,  a 
red-haired,  keen-faced  youth  standing  by,  gave  a 
quizzical  look,  which  I  interpreted  as  meaning  that 
Thomas  wished  to  conceal  the  fact  that  he  was 
very  glad  indeed  to  go  to  Mrs.  Daniel  Blake's 
funeral.  At  the  appointed  hour  I  found  myself  in 
a  carriage  drawn  by  a  pair  of  horses  fully  as 
handsome,  but  much  more  sedate  than  Faery. 
"  Why,  this  is  positively  luxurious,"  I  exclaimed, 
leaning  back  in  the  very  comfortable  carriage. 
Mrs.  Flaxman  smiled  serenely. 

"My  dear,  it  is  a  luxury  you  may  every  day 
enjoy.  I  am  not  inclined  for  carriage  exercise — a 
walk  has  greater  charm  for  me  save  when  I  am 
tired." 

"  If  you  had  walked  all  your  life — only  enjoying 
a  carriage  at  brief  intervals  during  the  holidays, 
you  would  enjoy  this  drive,  I  am  sure." 

"  Your  life  is  not  a  very  long  affair,  my  child. 
At  your  age,  no  doubt,  I  thought  as  you  now  do. 
I  believe  God  intended  that  youth  and  age  should 
see  th'S  tvorld  through  different  eyes." 

Mi-s.  Flaxman,  I  was  finding,  had  a  way  ( f 
setting  me  thinking  about  serious  things,  an'':  yet 
the  thoughts  were  mainly  pleasant  ones.    She  was 


42 


M EDO  LINE  SELWYN'S  WOEK. 


i  i 


I 
t 


m 

i 


different  from  any  one  I  ever  knew.  I  found  her 
presence  so  restful.  I  liad  tlie  impression  that 
some  time  in  lier  life  she  liad  encountered  storms, 
but  the  mastery  had  been  gained ;  and  now  she 
had  drifted  into  a  peaceful  harbor.  Looking  back 
now  over  longer  stretches  of  years  and  experi- 
ences than  I  then  had,  I  can  recall  a  few  other 
pei"sons  who  impressed  me  in  a  similar  fashion. 
But  they  were  rare  and  beautiful  exceptions  to 
the  scores,  and  even  hundreds  of  average  human 
folk  whom  I  have  known. 

After  we  had  driven  some  distance,  Tliomas 
turned  to  inquire  if  we  were  going  to  the  grave. 

"  It  is  a  shady  drive  good  part  of  the  way ;  trees 
on  one  side  and  the  water's  edge  bordering  the 
other.     Perhaps  we  might  as  well  go." 

"  They'd  take  it  very  kind  of  you,  ma'am,  I  am 
sure,"  Thomas  responded,  although  her  remarks 
were  addressed  to  me.  Evidently  he  was  very 
willing  to  exercise  tiie  horses,  notwithstanding  his 
press  of  work. 

We  sat  in  the  carriage  at  the  door  of  Daniel's 
cottage.  The  house  seemed  full,  and  quite  a 
crowd  were  standing  outside. 

"  They  have  shown  the  poor  thing  a  good  deal 
of  respect,"  Mrs.  Flaxnian  whispered  to  me  as  she 
glanced  at  the  numerous  assemblage. 

Suddeiiiy,  on  tlie  hush  that  seemed  to  enfold 
everything,  there  bro^e  weu'd,  discoixlant  singing 


mmmuMiMii.  I  MM  ■^IJteSIWiaMBUBjIIW.Iiggi^t^ggQQi*"?!  . 


VORK, 

f.  I  found  her 
impression  that 
untered  storms, 
;  and  now  she 
Looking  back 
iirs  and  experi- 
all  a  few  other 
similar  fashion. 
1  exceptions  to 
average  human 

stance,  Tlionias 
to  the  grave. 
f  the  way ;  trees 
3  bordering  the 
go."  ■ 

u,  ma'am,  I  am 
fh  lier  remarks 
Y  he  was  very 
withstanding  his 

loor  of  Dfiniel's 
[,   and   quite   a 

ng  a  good  deal 

ed  to  me  as  she 

^e. 

imed  to   enfold 

coi-dant  singing 


THE  FUNERAL. 


43 


— women's  voices  sounding  high  and  piercing,  tlio 
men's  deeper  and  more  melodious.  Tlie  hymn 
they  sang  was  long,  and  the  air  very  plaintive, 
bringing  tears  to  my  eyes,  and  causing  tlie  strange, 
oppressed  feeling  of  the  preceding  day  to  return. 
When  the  singing  ceased  I  noticed  the  men  re- 
moving their  hats,  and  a  moment  after  a  stentorian 
voice  speaking  loudly.  I  glanced  around  amazed, 
but  Mrs.  Flaxman  noticing  my  surprise,  whispered, 
"  It  is  prayer." 

If  the  singing  made  me  nervous  the  prayer 
intensified  the  feeling.  In  the  hot,  midsummer 
air,  so  still  the  leaves  scarce  rippled  on  the  trees,  I 
could,  after  a  few  seconds,  distinguish  every 
word  the  man  uttered.  Accustomed  to  the  dec- 
orous prayer  of  the  German  pastors  our  teachers 
had  taken  us  to  hear,  this  impetuous  prayer  to  the 
Deity  awed  me.  He  talked  with  the  invisible 
Jehovah  as  if  they  two  were  long  tried  friends,  be- 
tween whom  there  was  such  perfect  trust ;  what- 
ever the  man  asked  the  God  would  bestow.  First 
there  was  intercession,  pleading  for  forgiveness  for 
past  offences,  and  for  restraining  grace  for  future 
need^.  Afterward  he  spoke  of  Death,  the  common 
inheritance  of  each  of  us,  and  the  pain  his  entrance 
had  caused  in  this  home,  and  then  followed 
thanksgiving  that  through  Christ  we  could  conquer 
even  Death  himself.  I  shall  never  forget  the 
ti-iumphant    ring    in    that    man's    voice    as    he 


44 


MEDOLINE  SELWYN'a  WORK. 


r.; 


■|*^' 


passed  on  to  the  joy  of  those  who,  trampling  on 
Death,  have  i)assed  safely  within  the  light  of  God. 

"If  one  of  the  old  masters  had  heard  that  man's 
prayer  to-day,  he  would  have  set  it  to  some  grjind 
music.  It  reminds  me  of  a  Te  Deum  or  oratoria," 
I  said  to  Mrs.  Flaxman,  when  the  benediction  was 
pronounced.  The  tears  were  in  her  eyes,  but  her 
face  was  shining  as  if  some  innor  light  were  irradi- 
ating it. 

"Did  you  ever  hear  so  impetuous  a  prayer? "  I 
asked. 

She  answered  my  question  by  asking  another : 

"Did  you  not  like  it?" 

"  I  think  it  frightened  me.  The  clergyman 
seemed  to  bo  talking  to  some  one  right  beside 
him." 

"  Is  not  all  prayer  that — talking,  pleading  with 
a  God  nigh  at  hand  ?  " 

I  did  not  reply.  My  eyes  were  fastened  on  the 
crowd  now  issuing  from  the  cottage  door;  the 
coffin,  carried  by  men,  came  first,  the  people  press- 
ing hurriedly  after — among  them  one  whom  I 
instinctively  felt  to  be  the  clergyman — a  thick-set 
man  with  hair  turning  white,  and  a  most  noble, 
benignant  face.  As  the  procession  formed  he  took 
his  place  at  the  head ;  Daniel  and  his  mother  climb- 
ing into  a  wagon  directly  behind  the  hearse  ;  the 
former  looked  utterly  broken  down,  as  if  the  light 
of  his  eyes  had  verily  been  quenched. 


trampling  on 
I  light  of  God. 
ird  that  man's 
to  some  grand 
t  or  oratoria," 
jnediction  was 
•  eyes,  but  her 
ht  were  irradi- 

a  prayer  ?  "  I 

king  another: 

he  clergyman 
3  right   beside 

pleading  with 

istened  on  the 
ige  door ;  the 
le  people  press- 
one  whom  I 
m — a  thick-set 
a  most  noble, 
formed  he  took 
I  mother  climb- 
he  hearse ;  the 
as  if  the  light 
id. 


THE  FUNERAL. 


■  ..jJtxr-tawjtfgg-'-yrrg 


40 


» Jii'i  ■■ifwwtWaW 


The  procession  then  moved  slowly  along,  and  in 
a  shor'u  time  we  turned  out  of  the  Mill  Road,  and 
into  a  beautiful  shady  street  along   the   water's 
edge.     I  watched  the  sunlight  on  the  shimmering 
waters,  and  far  across,  where  one  of  the  wooded 
headlands  looked  down  into  the  sea,   the    green 
trees   made   such    a  picture  on  the    water    that, 
in    watching    this   perfect    bit    of    landscape,    I 
found  myself  forgetting  the  solemn  occasion,  and 
the  sorrowing  heart  of  the  solitary  mourner,  while 
I  planned  to  come  there  the  very  next  day  with  ray 
sketch  book,  and  secure  this  gem  to  send  to  my 
favorite  teacher  as  a  specimen  of  my  new  surround- 
ings.    And  then  fancy  got  painting  her  own  pict- 
ures as  to  what  my  work  in  tliis  new  life  with  its 
greatly  altered  meaning  should  be,  and  before  we 
had  reached  the  grave's  edge  I  had  mapped  out  my 
ongoings  for  a  long  stretch  of  the  future,  and  that 
in  such  eager,  worldly  fashion  that  I  almost  forgot 
that  at  the  end  of  all  this  bright-hued  future  there 
lay  for  me,  as  well  as  for   Daniel  Blake's  wife,  an 
open  grave.     My  busy  thoughts  were  recalled  by 
hearing  the  penetrating  voice  of  the  preacher  say- 
ing "dust  to  dust,  ashes  to  ashes,"  with  the   re- 
mainder of  the  beautiful  formula  used  by  many  of 
the  churches   in   planting  the  human    germ.     A 
glance  around  revealed  Daniel  Blake  leaning  in  the 
very  abandonment  of  grief  on  a  tombstone  at  the 
gra\  e's  side,  and  looking  down  into  the  coffin  that 


>  '  h  I 


*!% 


46 


MEDOLINE  BELWTN'S  WORK. 


was  rapidly  disappearing  under  the  shovelfuls  of 
clay.  A  keen  sense  of  my  own  heartlessness  in 
feeling  so  happy  within  touch  of  such  woe  came 
over  me,  while  a  vague  wonder  seized  me,  if  some 
other  careless  -  hearted  creatures  might  not  be 
planning  their  joys  some  day  in  presence  of  my 
breaking  heart. 


I  shovelfuls  of 
iartlessness  in 
ich  woe  came 
id  me,  if  some 
night  not  be 
esenoe  of  my 


CHAPTER  V. 


1 1 


A  NEW  ACCOMPLISHMENT  LEARNED. 

WAS   rapidly  attaining  the  comfortable 
home  feeling  at  Oiiklands,  which  makes 
life  in  castle  or  hut  a  rapture.      There 
werr  so  many  sources  of  enjoyment  ojien  to  me. 
T  nad  a  more  than  usual  love  for  painting,  and 
had  for  years  prosecuted  the  art  more  from  love 
than  duty.     My  last  teacher,  an  old  German  Pro- 
fessor,  exacting  and  very  thorough,  had  been  as 
particular  with  my  instruction  as  if  my  bread  de- 
pended on  my  proficiency.     I  thanked  him  now 
in  my  heart  when  I  found  myself  shut  out  from 
other  opportunities  for  improvement  than  what, 
unaided,  I  could  secure.     There  were  special  bits 
of  landscape  I  loved  to  sketch  over   and  over 
again ;  these  I  would  take  to  Mi-s.  Flaxman,  or 
Reynolds,  the  housekeeper,  to  see  if  they  could 
recognize  the  original  of  my  drawing ;  but  even 
Samuel,  the  stable-boy,  could  name  the  spot  at 


MM 


'W    .i 


48 


MKDOLINE  SELWrirS  WORK. 


t 
i 


sight.     His  joy  was  unbounded,  but  scarcely  ex- 
celled  my  own  when  I   succeeded  in    making  a 
water-color  sketch  of  himself,  the  hair  a  shade  or 
two  less  flame-colored  than  was  natural,  and  which 
even  Hubert    pronounced  a   very  fair    likeness. 
Then  in  the  large,  stately  drawing-room,  some  of 
whose  furnishing  dated  back  a  century  or  more, 
stood  a  fine,  grand  piano.     Here  I  studied  over 
again  my  school  lessons,  or  tried  new  ventures 
from  some  of  tlio  masters.     What  dreams  I  had  in 
that  dim  room  in  the  pauses  of  my  music  ;  peo- 
pling that  place  again  with  the  vanished  ones  who 
had  loved    and  suffered  there    my   own    dead 
parents  among  the  rest,  whose  faces  looked  down 
at  me,  I  thought  tenderly,  from  the  walls  where 
their  portraits  hung  in  heavy  carved  frames,  of  a 
fashion  a  generation  old.    There  wjvs  about  my 
mother's  face  a  haunting  expression,  as  of  a  well 
known  face  which  long  afterward  looked  out  at 
me  one  day  from  my  own  redection  in  the  mirror 
and  then,  to  my  joy,  I  discovered  I  was  like  her 
in   feature  and  expression.      In  the  library   too, 
whose   key  Mr.    Winthrop  had   left    with    Mrs. 
Flaxman   for   my  use,  I   found    an    unexplored 
wonderland.     My  literature  had  chiefly  consisted 
of  the  text  book  variety,  and  if  I  had  possessed 
wider  range,  my  time  was  so  fully  occupied  with 
lessons   I  could  not  have  availed   myself  of  the 
privilege  ;  but  now,  with  what  relish  I  went  from 


RK. 

t  scarcely  ex- 
in    making  a 
lair  a  shade  or 
ml,  and  which 
fair    likeness, 
room,  some  of 
itnry  or  more, 
studied  over 
new  ventures 
reams  I  had  in 
r  music ;  peo- 
shed  ones  who 
ly   own    dead 
i  looked  down 
e  walls  where 
id  frames,  of  a 
was  about  my 
in,  as  of  a  well 
looked  out  at 
L  in  the  mirror 
I  was  like  her 
le  library   too, 
jft    with    Mrs. 
in    unexplored 
hiefly  consisted 
had  possessed 
occupied  with 
myself  of  the 
ish  I  went  from 


A  NEW  ACCOMPLTfUlMEyT  LEAnNKD.        4$ 

shelf   to  shelf,  di])piiig  into  a  book  here  and  an- 
otlier    tlieic,    takinjr    by  turn.s    poetry,   history, 
fiction,   and   biogrui)hy,  Shakespaaro   and  Milton 
had  so  often  perplexed   me  in  Grammar  and  an- 
alysis, that  I  left  them  for  the  most  part  severely 
alone;  but  tiiere  were  others,  fresh  and  new  to 
me  ns  a  June  morning,  and  quite  as   refreshing : 
Hubert  used  sometimes  to  join  me,  but  we  gener- 
ally disagreed.    I  had    little    patience  with  his 
practical  criticisms  of  my  choicest  readings,  while 
he  assured  me   my  enthusiasm   over  my  favorite 
authors  was   a   clear  waste   of  sentiment.      Mrs. 
Flaxman  was,  in   addition  to  all  this,  adding  to 
my   fund  of  knowledge  the  very  useful   one  of 
needlework,  and  was  getting  me  interested  not  only 
in  the  mysteries  of  plain  sewing,  but  brought  some 
of  her  carefully  hoarded  tapestries  for  mi;  to  im- 
itate—beautiful Scriptural  scenes  that  sent  me  to 
the  Bible  with  a  critical  interest  to  see  if  the  de- 
signs were  in  harmony  with  its  spirit.     Then  too 
I  used  to  spend  liappy  hours  exploring  garden, 
field   and  forest,  for  Oakiands  embraced  a  wide 
area,  making  acquaintance  with  the  gentle  Alder- 
neys,  and  Jerseys,  who  brought  us  so  generously 
tlieir  daily  ofTering,   as  well  as   the  many  other 
meek,  dumb  creatures  whom  I  was  getting  to  care 
for  with  a  quite  huniau  interest.     The  -Jea-shore 
too  had  its  constantly  renewed  fascinations  which 
drew  mo  tliere,  to  watch  its  tireless  ebb  and  flow, 

4 


}',  'I 


60 


MKDOLINK  SELWYN'S  WOJtK. 


it 


or  the  buay  craft  diHaiipuiiriiig  out  of  sight  to- 
wardn  their  inuiiy  haveiiH  around  the  earth. 
Stories  I  had  for  the  sea- shore,  and  others  for  the 
woodland  and  gardens  wliicli  I  carried  on  in  h)ng 
chapters,  (hiy  after  day,  until  sorrowfully  I  came 
to  the  end,  as  we  must  always  do  to  everything  in 
tltis  world. 

My  heroes  and  heroines  were  all  singularly 
busy  people,  carrying  on  tiieir  loves  and  intrigues 
amid  restless  activities,  and  living  in  the  main  to 
help  others  in  the  way  of  life  rather  than,  like 
myself,  living  to  themselves  alone.  Altogether  I 
did  not  find  a  moment  of  my  sixteen  hours  of 
working  life  each  day  any  too  long,  and  opened 
my  eyes  on  eac^  morning's  light  as  if  it  were  a 
fresh  creation. 

Then,  in  addition  to  all  these,  there  were  solemn, 
stately  tea  drinkings  among  the  upper  ten  of 
Cavendish  society,  but  usually  I  found  them  a 
task — the  music  was  poor,  the  conversation  almost 
wholly  confined  to  local  affairs,  and  the  only  re- 
fection of  a  first-class  nature  was  the  food  provided. 
Cavendish  ladies  were  notable  housewives,  and 
could  converse  eloquently  on  pickling,  preserving, 
baking  and  the  many  details  of  domestic  economy, 
while  as  regarded  the  fashions,  I  verily  believe 
they  could  have  enlightened  Worth  himself  on 
some  important  particulars.  I  used  to  feel  sadly 
out  of  place,  and  sat  very  often  silent  and  con- 


DJtK. 

At  of  sight  to- 
ld the  eivrth. 
others  for  the 
lied  on  in  long 
(wfully  I  canio 
i  everytliing  in 

all  singularly 
i  and  intrigues 
in  the  main  to 
ther  than,  like 
Altogether  I 
cteen  hours  of 
J,  and  opened 
as  if  it  were  a 


re  were  solemn, 
upper  ten  of 
found  them  a 
ersation  almost 
id  the  only  re- 
3  food  provided, 
ousewivea,  and 
ing,  preserving, 
lestic  economy, 
[  verily  believe 
I'th  himself  on 
3d  to  feel  sadly 
silent  and  con- 


A  yKW  ACCOMPLISIIMEST  LKAIINKD.        M 

strained,  thinking  of  my  dearer,  and  more  satisfying 
companionships  of  books,  and  sea,  and  llowei-s,  and 
the  fair  face  of  nature  generally,  and  wondering  if 
I  could  ever  get,  like  them,  absorbed  in  such 
hunihlo  things,  getting  for  instance  my  pickles 
nicely  greened,  and  of  a  proper  degree  of  crisj)- 
ness,  and  my  preserves,  ftiid  jollies  prepared  with 
equal  perfection  for  diseased  and  fastidious  palates. 
"Why  can't  tlioy  talk  of  their  minds,  and  the  food 
these  must  relish,  and  assimiLite,  instead  of  all  the 
time  being  devoted  to  the  body ;  how  it  must  be 
fed  and  clothed?"  I  asked,  with  perhaj)8  too  evi- 
dent contemjit,  of  Mrs.  Flaxiiiiui,  one  evening  as  we 
drove  home  under  the  midnight  stars,  after  one  of 
these  entertainments. 

"  My  child,  it  is  natural  that  people  should  talk 
on  subjects  that  most  interest  them.  Not  every 
one  hjis  vision  clear  enough  to  penetrate  beyond 
the  tangible  and  visible." 

"  Then,  in  what  are  the  Cavendish  aristocracy 
better  than  Mrs.  liluke,  and  that  class  ?  Even  she 
talks  sometimes  to  me  about  God  and  the  soul. 
Slie  says  she  and  Daniel  think  a  great  deal  about 
thetio  of  late." 

"God  only  knows;  they  may  be  far  better  in 
His  sight  than  any  of  us,"  Mrs.  Flaxnian  said, 
wearily. 

"  Not  any  letter  tlian  you,  dear  friend,"  I  said, 
clasping  the  little,  thin  hand  in  mine. 


i  ■•)■ 


es 


MBDOLINE  SELWYN'S  WORK. 


"I 


■f  i' 


c 

i 


"  Yes,  better,  if  they  are  doing  more  for  others 
than  I,  Gacriticing  their  own  cjuse  and  pleasure, 
which,  alas,  I  am  not  doing." 

"  How  can  you  say  that,  when  you  are  making 
home,  and  me  so  happy  ?  I  want  to  grow  to  be 
just  such  a  woman  as  you." 

"  Alas,  child,  you  must  take  a  higher  ideal  than 
I  am  to  pattern  after,  if  your  life  is  to  be  a  suc- 
cess." 

"  Mrs.  Blake  tells  me  of  a  good  man  living  on 
the  Mill  Road,  who  is  blind  and  thinks  a  great 
deal.  He  says  none  of  us  can  tell  what  our  lives 
seem  like  to  the  angels,  and  that  many  a  one  will 
get  an  overwhelming  surprise  after  death ;  some 
who  think  they  are  no  good  in  the  world,  mere 
cumberei-3  of  the  ground,  will  find  such  bhissed 
surprises  as  they  wander  through  the  Heavenly 
places." 

♦'  That  lit  very  comforting,  dear,  if  we  could  only 
hope  to  be  among  those  meek  ones." 

"  He  told  Mrs.  Blake  she  might  be  one  of  God's 
blessed  ones  if  she  wished — that  any  sincere  soul 
was  welcomed  by  Him." 

"  Surely  you  did  not  need  to  go  to  Mrs.^Blake 
to  learn  that  ?  " 

I  was  silent,  perhaps  ashamed  for  Mrs.  Flaxman 
to  know  how  very  dense  my  ignorance  was  respect- 
ing these  mysteries  of  our  holy  religion.  As  the 
weeks  went   by   my   friendship   for   Mrs.   Blake 


YORK. 

more  for  others 
3  and  pleasure, 

you  are  making 
to  grow  to  be 

ligher  ideal  than 
is  to  be  a  suc- 

I  man  living  on 
thinks  a  great 

II  what  our  lives 
nany  a  one  will 
ter  death ;  some 
the  world,  mere 
md  such  bl'issed 
[h  the  Heavenly 

,  if  we  could  only 

IS." 

b  be  one  of  God's 
.  any  sincere  soul 

fo  to  Mrs.  J31ake 

or  Mrs.  Flaxman 
ance  was  respect- 
religion.     As  the 
for   Mrs.   Blake 


NEW  ACCOMPLISHMENT  LEARNED.         53 

strengthened.    I  kept  her  little  cottage  brightened 
with  the   old-fashioned  blossoms  that  she   loved 
best.     "  They  mind  me  so  of  when  I  was  a  child, 
and  the  whole  world  seemed  in  summer  time  like 
a  great  garden.     We  lived  deep  in  the  country, 
just  a  little  strip  of  ground  brought  in  from  the 
woods,  and  all  round  our  little  log  house  was  the 
green  trees,"  she  said  one  day,  the  pleasant  reflec- 
tive look  that  I  liked  to  see  coming  info  her  kind, 
strong  face.     I  -ised  to  sit  and  listen  to  her  homely, 
uncultivated    speech,   and   wonder   why   I   liked 
her  so  much  better   than  my  natural  associates. 
She   was    so    real,  I  could  not  imagine  her  try- 
ing   to  appear   other  than   she  was.     Some  way 
she  seemed  to  take  me  back  to  elementary  things, 
like  the  memories  of  childhood  or  the  reading  of 
the  Book  of  Genesis.     Then  she  had  so  changed 
Danel's  cottage— newly  papered,  whitewashed  and 
thoroughly  cleansed  with  soap  and  water,  it  seemed 
one  of  the  cosiest,  homeliest  places  I  ever  saw.     I 
only  went  in  the  afternoons,  and  her  housework 
then  was  always  done  ;  but  she  was  never  idle.     I 
used  to  watch  her  knitting  stockings  of  all  sizes 
with  silent  curiosity  ;  but  one  day  I  asked  who  a 
tiny  pair  of  scarlet  ones  was  for.    "  Mrs.  Larkum  s 
baby.    The  poor  things  are  in  desperate  trouble," 
she  replied. 

"  But  do  you  knit  for  other  folks  ?  " 

"  Yes,  fur  some.     Them  I  jest  finished  is  fur  on© 


64 


MEDOLINS  SELWYN'S  WOliK. 


'11 


■t  1 


of  the   Cliisties'  down  the  lane.     Any  size  from 
one  to  ten  fits  tliere." 

"Are  they  able  to  pay  you?"  I  ventured  to  in- 
quire. 

"I  don't  ginerally  knit  for  folks  as  can  pay. 
It's  a  pity  for  little  feet  to  go  bare  because  the 
mother  was  thriftless  or  overworked." 

I  watched  the  bi  >y  fingers  a  little  sadly,  com- 
paring them  with  my  own  daintily  gloved  hands, 
that  liad  never  done  anything  more  useful  tlum  to 
hold  a  text  book,  or  sketch,  or  practice  on  the 
ivory  keys,  while  those  other  hands  often  tired, 
calloused  with  hard  usage,  had  been  working  un- 
selfishly through  the  years  for  others. 

"  I  wish  you  would  ti  ich  me  to  knit,''  I  said  one 
day,  ^dized  with  a  sudden  inspiration. 

"  'Twould  Ije  a  waste  of  your  time.  Folks  like 
you  don't  wear  home-knit  stockings." 

"  Oh,  yes  they  do.  Pretty  silken  hose  is  quite 
the  fashion  ;  but  I  hire  mine  knitted." 

"  Then  what  makes  you  want  to  learn  ?  " 

"Do  you  not  think  it  is  my  duty  to  work  for 
the  poor,  and  helpless  as  well  as  yours  ?  " 

"  I  won't  allow  but  what  it  is ;  but  laws !  rich 
folk  can't  pity  the  poor,  no  more'n  a  person  that's 
never  been  sick,  or  had  the  tooth-ache,  can  pity 
one  who  has." 

"  The  stockings  would  be  just  as  warm,  though, 
as  if  I  knew  all  about  their  sorrows." 


'I 
1 


'ORK. 

Any  size  from 

ventured  to  in- 
ks as  can  pay. 
,re  because  the 
d." 

;tlo  sadly,  com- 
f  gloved  hands, 
}  useful  tlum  to 
practice  on  the 
ids  often  tired, 
en  working  un- 
jrs. 

init,"  I  said  one 
on. 

me.  Folks  like 
;s." 

sn  hose  is  quite 
ed." 
learn?" 

uty  to  work  for 
ours  r 

;  but  laws !  rich 
L  a  person  that's 
i-ache,  can  pity 

3  warm,  though, 

rs." 


.uMJin-ijiN*! '  iiiiiii0»0,jmm'f''  jXf^^0/f^ . 


A  NEW  ACCOMPLISHMENT  LEAdNED.        66 

"I  reckon  they'd  feel  better  on  some  feet  if  they 
hnow'd  your  white  hands  knit  'em." 

"  If  there  would  be  any  added  pleasure  to  the 
warmth  of  the  docks  then  you  will  surely  teach 
me." 

"  I'll  be  proud  to  do  it ;  but  child,  I'm  afeard 
you  are  making  me  think  too  much  of  you.  Byem- 
bye  when  you  get  interested  in  other  things, 
you  won't  care  to  set  in  my  kitchen,  and  listen  to 
an  old-fiishioned  body  like  me,  droning  away  like 
a  bee  in  a  bottle." 

"  Do  you  think  it  is  necessary  to  trouble  about 
something  that  may  never  come  to  psvss  ?  I  think 
I  shall  always  enjoy  hearing  you  talk.  Listening 
to  you  seems  like  watching  the  old-fashioned 
flowers  nodding  their  heads  in  the  drowsy  summer 
air.  I  like  the  rare  flow^irs,  too,  with  long  names 
and  aristocratic  faces ;  but  I  don't  think  I  shall 
ever  like  (hem  so  well  as  to  forget  the  happy 
fancies  their  humble  relations  bring. 

"  Thank  you,  dearie.  I  guess  you'll  allays  keep 
a  warm  place  in  your  heart  for  the  old-fashioned 
folks  as  well  as  the  posies." 

•'Now  that  we  have  that  matter  settled,  sup- 
pose I  begin  the  knitting,"  I  said,  without  any 
further  attempt  at  convincing  Mrs.  Blake  of  my 
unalterable  regard. 

She  got  me  the  yarn  and  needles  and  I  straightway 
proceeded  to  master  anothef  of  the  domestic  sciences. 


56 


MEDOLINE  8ELWYN'8  WORK. 


r  - 
I' 


I  was  soon  able  to  turn  the  seam,  and  knit  plain  ; 
but  was  forced  to  stop  very  often  to  admire  my 
own  handicraft.  However,  I  got  on  so  readily  that 
she  allowed  I  could  undertake  a  child's  sock.  I 
wanted  it  to  look  pretty  as  well  as  to  be  comfort- 
able, and  not  fancying  Mrs.  lilake's  homespun 
yarn,  I  started  out  to  the  store  to  get  some  bet- 
ter suited  to  my  liking. 

When  I  returned,  Mrs.  IJlake  exclaimed  at  the 
size  of  my  bundle,  assuring  me  that  it  would  supply 
me  with  work  for  months. 

"I'm  surprised  you  wan't  asliamed  to  carry  such 
a  big  parcel,"  she  said  admiringly. 

'*  It  did  not  occur  to  me  to  be  ashamed." 
"  One  never  knows  who  they  may  meet  though." 
"  It  was  nothing  to  be  ashamed  of." 
"I    s'pose    not;    but    quality  has  such  queer 
notions." 

"  I  do  not  wish  to  be  quality  if  that  is  the  case  ; 
I  want  to  be  a  sensible  woman,  and  a  useful  one,"  I 
said,  as  I  proceeded  to  wind  my  yarn  from  Mra. 
Blake's  outstretched  arms.  In  a  short  time  I  had 
the  pleasu  e  of  seeing  a  pretty  little  sock  evolving 
itself  out  of  the  long  strand  of  yarn.  Mi-s.  Blake 
finding  me  anxious  to  be  helpful  to  her  poor  neigh- 
bors, began  unfolding  histories  from  time  to  time, 
as  I  sat  in  her  tidy  kitchen,  that  to  me  seemed  to 
rise  to  the  dignity  of  tragedies.  Sometimes  I 
begged  to  accompany  her  to  these  sorrowful  homes. 


t 


RK. 

d  knit  plain ; 
to  admire  my 
80  readily  that 
liild's  sock.  I 
to  be  comfort- 
e's  homespun 
get  some  bet- 

laimed  at  the 
would  supply 

to  cany  such 

imed." 

meet  tliough." 

s  such  queer 

it  is  the  case  ; 

useful  one,"  I 

rn  from  Mi-s. 

)rt  time  I  had 

sock  evolving 
Mi-s.  Blake 

ler  poor  neigh- 
time  to  time, 

ne  seemed  to 
Sometimes  I 

rowful  homes. 


A  NEW  ACCOMPLISUMENT  LEARNED. 


67 


The  patience  under  overwhelming  sorrow  that  I 
saw  at  times,  gave  nie  new  glimpses  into  the  pos- 
sibilities of  human  endurance,  and  my  8ymi)athies 
were  so  wrought  upon,  I  set  about  trying  to  earn 
money  myself  to  help  alleviate  their  wants,  while 
a  new  field  of  work  stretched  out  before  me  in 
bewildering  persjiective  ;  and  sometimes  I  wished  I 
too  had  a  hundred  iiaiuls,  like  a  second  Briareus, 
that  I  might  manufacture  garments  for  half-clad 
women  and  children. 


'.< 


\:\ 


.\   J   lit    ! 

'if 'I  I      ii 

• '  iw    J 


I 


•It  ' 

iiif'f!i>' 


.  ■■!  ■■■■:; 

•ill  ,■'<-:■■ 


CHAPTER  VI. 


t 


1^ 


MR.  WINTHKOP. 

I  HAT  evening,  my  first  knitting  lesson 
ended,  on  returning  to  Oaklands  a  sur- 
prise awaited  me.  As  I  was  walking 
briskly  up  the  avenue  towards  the  house  I  met 
Hubert  with  Faery  coming  to  bring  me  home. 

"  Mr.  Winthrop  has  come,  and  is  inquiring  very 
particularly  where  you  are  in  hiding,  and  I  believe 
my  poor  mother  is  afraid  of  telling  him  an  untruth, 
for  she  hurried  me  off  very  unceremoniously  after 
you,"  Hubert  said,  as  he  reined  up  Faery  for  a 
moment's  conversation. 

"  You  need  have  no  fears  for  her ;  she  would  go 
to  the  stake  rather  than  tell  a  lie." 

"  Or  betray  a  friend,"  Hubert  said,  with  a  mean- 
ing smile.  "Remember  Mr.  Winthrop  is  very 
fastidious  about  liis  associates.  Your  friend  Mrs. 
Blake,  in  his  eyes,  has  only  a  bare  right  to  exist ; 
to  presume  on  his  friendship,  or  that  of  his  ward, 
would  be  an  unpardonable  sin," 


tr 


knitting  lesson 
Daklands  a  sur- 
I  was  walking 
he  house  I  met 
g  me  home. 
i  inquiring  very 
ig,  and  I  believe 
him  an  untruth, 
moniously  after 
up  Faery  for  a 

r  ;  she  would  go 

id,  with  a  mean- 
nthrop  is  very 
aur  friend  Mrs. 
)  right  to  exist ; 
at  of  liis  ward, 


t 


f? 


Mil.  WINTIlIiOP.  09 

"  I  must  hasten  to  your  mother's  relief,"  I  said, 
with  a  little  scoffing  laugh.  I  paid  very  little  need 
just  then  to  Hubert's  remarks— later  I  found  he 
had  not  greatly  overstated  my  guardian's  exclusive- 
ness.  Wishing  to  gain  my  room  and  make  some 
additions  to  my  toilet  before  meeting  Mr.  Win- 
throp,  I  chose  a  side  entrance,  taking  a  circuitous 
path  through  the  shrubbery,  if  possible  to  reach  the 
house  unseen. 

The  door  opened  into  a  conservatory,  and  I  had 
just  slipped  in  stealthily  when  I  found  myself  face 
to  face  with  a  gentleman  whom  I  knew  on  the  in- 
stant was  my  guardian.  There  was  such  an  air  of 
proprietorship  about  him,  as  he  stood  calmly  sur- 
veying nature's  beautiful  products  in  leaf  and  bud 
and  blossom.  He  glanced  down  at  me — possibly 
taking  me  at  first  for  one  of  the  maids — then  look- 
ing more  keenly  he  bowed  rather  distantly.  I  re- 
turned the  salutation  quite  as  coldly,  and  was  mak- 
ing good  my  flight  when  his  voice  arrested  my 
steps.  "  Pardon  me,"  he  said,  in  a  finely  modulated 
and  veiy  musical  voice,  "  is  this  not  Miss  Selwyn?  " 
I  turned  and  bowing  said,  "  My  guardian,  I 
think." 

"  I  am  glad  we  were  able  to  recognize  each  other." 
I  looked  into  his  face.  The  smile  was  very  win- 
ning that  greeted  me,  otherwise  I  thought  the 
face,  though  handsome,  and  unusually  noble  looking, 
was  cold,  and  a  trifle  hard  in  expression, 


,ii    ' 


::'.'l\' 


'&■ 


'^1     , 


11 


-gif 


^*4 
"4 


CO 


MEDOLINE  SELWYN'S  WORK. 


"  I  am  glad  to  welcome  you  to  Oaklauds,  though 
late  in  being  able  to  do  so.  I  hope  you  have  not 
found  it  too  dull  ?  " 

"  Oh  no,  indeed-  — thtu'o  is  so  much  to  interest 
one  Lere  after  city  life,  I  am  glad  at  each  new  day 
that  comes." 

Ho  looked  surprised  at  my  remark,  and  instantiy 
I  bothougi't  myself  of  the  character  for  fastidious- 
ness wliii'h  Hubert  had  given  him,  and  resolved  to 
be  less  impulsive  ni  expressing  my  feelings. 

"  You  must  make  society  for  yourself  then  in 
other  than  the  human  element.  I  cannot  think 
any  one  could  rejoice,  on  waking  in  the  morning, 
merely  to  renew  intercourse  with  our  Cavendisii 
neighbors." 

I  looked  np  eagerly — "  Then  you  don't  care  for 
them,  either  ?  " 

"  Ah,  I  see  it  is  not  from  your  own  species  you 
draw  satisfaction." 

"  But  you  have  not  answered  my  question." 

There  wjis  a  gleam  of  humor  swept  ovar  the 
face  I  was  already  finding  so  hard  to  read. 

"  I  am  not  well  enough  versed  in  Cavendish  so- 
ciety to  give  a  just  opinion — probably  you  havo 
already  drunk  mo-e  cups  of  tea  with  your  friends 
than  I  have  done  in  ten  years.  Let  me  hear  your 
verdict." 

"  Our  Deportment  Prciessor  assured  1.3  it  v/a^ 


\) 


i 


V 


ORK. 

iklaiids,  though 
you  have  not 

ach  to  interest 
t  each  new  day 

,  and  iiistanu^ 
for  fastidions- 

md  resolved  to 

feelings. 

ourself  then  in 
cannot  think 

I  the  morning, 

our  Cavendish 

don't  care  for 

m\  species  you 

question." 
.vopt   over  the 

0  read. 

1  Cavendish  so- 
ably  you  havo 
:h  your  friends 
b  me  hear  your 

ired   1.3  it  v/a^ 


<mttimfii^t*i^^??iif^^-'-, 


\) 


.i 


<i 


MR.   WINTHROP. 


61 


exceedingly  bad  foruj  to  discuss  one's  acquaintances 
— you  will  please  excuse  me." 

I  was  already  getting  afraid  of  my  guardian. 
But,  from  childhood,  there  was  a  spice  of  fearless- 
ness in  my  composition  that  manifested  itself  even 
when  I  was  most  frightened.  Again  I  glanced  into 
his  face— he  was  regarding  me  with  a  peculiar  in- 
tentness,  as  if  I  were  some  new  plant  brought  into 
the  conservatory  from  an  unknown  region,  and  he 
was  trying  to  classify  me.  I  could  see  no  trace  of 
warm,  human  interest  in  his  gaze. 

"  That  was  a  rather  mutinous  remark  to  bestow 
so  soon  upon  your  guardian,"  he  said,  in  the  same 
even  voice. 

"  I  am  very  sorry,"  I  murmured,  now  thoroughly 
ashamed  of  myself. 

"  We  will  make  a  truce  not  again  to  discuss  our 
acquaintances  ;  but  that  interesting  subject  elimi- 
nated from  conversation,  there  would  be  a  dearth 
left  with  a  goodly  number  of  our  species." 

"  I  do  not  care  for  the  tea  parties  here,  Mr.  Win- 
throp.  I  am  not  interested  in  the  things  they  talk 
about."     I  said,  with  a  sudden  burst  of  confidence. 

"You  have  broken  our  compact  already.  A 
woman  cannot  hold  to  a  bargain,  I  am  informed." 

"  I  had  not  promised,"  I  said,  proudly 

"  Then  I  am  to  infer  you  are  an  exception,  and 
would  hold  to  your  promises,  no  matter  how 
binding." 


i:,,^' ■  ■.■  j: 


;i>t.jih;| 


\W4 


,;■''*.'■ 


,  » 


62 


MEBCLINE  aSLWTira  WORK. 


"  I  am  the  daughtor  of  u  man;  jxwsibly  I  may  have 
inherited  some  noble,  manly  properties."  My 
temper  was  getting  ruflied. 

"Yes,  Nature  i)lay8  some  curious  freaks  occa- 
sionally," he  said  in  a  reflective  way,  as  if  we  were 
discussing  some  scientific  subject 

"You  will  please  excuse  me.  Dinner  will  be 
announced  shortly,  and  I  must  remove  my  wraps," 
I  said,  very  politely. 

He  bowed,  and  I  gladly  escaped  to  my  own 
room,  feeling  more  stiutled  than  pleased  at  my 
first  interview  with  Mr.  Winthrop. 

The  dinner  bell  rang,  and  I  hastened  down  to 
be  in  my  place  at  the  table  before  Mr.  Winthrop 
entered.  I  opened  the  door  of  the  pretty  break- 
fast parlor  wliere  dinner  had  been  served  ever  since 
I  came  tu  Oaklands,  but  the  room  was  silent  and 
empty. 

I  turned,  not  very  gladly  to  the  great  dining- 
room,  which  I  had  somehow  fancied  was  only  used 
on  rare  occasions.  Opening  the  door  I  saw  the 
table  shining  with  silver  and  glass,  while  Mrs. 
Flaxman  stood  surveying  the  arrangements  with 
an  anxious  face.  "  Shall  we  always  dine  here  ?  " 
I  asked  anxiously. 

'■  Always  when  Mr.  Winthrop  is  at  home ;  our 
informal  dinners  in  the  cosy  breakfast-room  arc  u 
thing  of  the  past." 

"  But  tins  seems  so  formal  and  grand  I  shall 


r 


rORK. 

isibly  I  may  have 
roperties."      My 

ous  freaks  occa- 
ay,  as  if  we  were 

Dinner  will  be 
love  my  wraps," 

ped  to  my  own 
I  pleased  at  my 
I. 

astened  down  to 
re  Mr.  Winthrop 
he  pretty  break- 
jerved  over  since 
1  was  silent  and 

he  great  dining- 
}d  was  only  used 
door  I  saw  the 
lass,  while  Mrs. 
rangements  with 
ays  dine  here  ?  " 

IS  at  home ;  our 
ikfast-room  arc  a 

id  grand  I  shall 


MR.  n'mniRop. 


flS 


never  enjoy  your  delicious  dishes  any  more,  with 
Hubert  adding  to  their  piquancy  with  his  sarcasms, 
and  witticisnw." 

"  Oh,  yes,  dear,  you  will ;  one  gets  used  to 
everything  in  this  world,  even  to  planning  every 
day  for  several  courses  at  di.  ner,"  she  said  with  a 
sigh. 

"  I  wonder  why  it  is  necessary  to  go  to  so  much 
trouble  just  for  something  to  eat,  when  it's  all  over 
in  a  half  h<iur  or  so,  and  not  any  more  nutritious 
than  food  plainly  prepared?" 

"  The  Winthrops  have  always  maintained  a 
well-equipped  table.  Our  Mr.  Winthrop  would 
look  amazed  if  we  set  him  down  to  one  of  our 
informal  dinners." 

"  I  think  he  would  enjoy  them  if  he  once  tried 
them,"  I  said,  as  I  slipped  into  the  place  Mrs. 
Flaxman  appointed.  A  few  seconds  after  Mr. 
Winthrop  entered,  followed  immediately  by  Hubert 
who  was  quite  metamorphosed  from  the  gay,  scof- 
fing youth  into  a  steady-paced  young  man.  As 
the  dinner  progressed  I  no  doubt  looked  luy  sur- 
prise at  the  change  ;  but  a  meaning  glance  at  Mr. 
Winthrop  was  Hubert's  mute  reply. 

While  Mr.  Winthrop's  attention  was  taken  up 
with  his  dinner,  I  took  the  opportunity  of  study- 
ing more  closely  tliis  man  to  whom  my  dead  father 
had  committed  so  completely  the  interests  and 
belongings  of  his  only  child.     The  scrutiny  was, 


:M. 


■   * 


■  » 

ii    • 


M 


MKDOLINK  SELWYN'S  WORK. 


-.  K? 


ill  soino  r(!Hi)oo-ts,  not  f^rer.tly  reassuring.  I  liiid 
noticed  an  we  Htood  noiir  uiidi  oilier  in  tho  oon- 
servntory  that  he  wau  a  lurcre  nian,  tall,  broad- 
shouldered  and  nuiHcnlar.  Tiie  face,  thougli  liand- 
some,  had  a  coUl,  Htern  look  that  I  felt  could  look 
at  nia  pilileBhly  if  I  iiiourrod  his  displeasure.  But 
there  was  also  an  expression  of  high,  intellectual 
power ;  an  alworbcd,  self-contained  look  tliat  seemed 
to  set  him  apart  from  otliers  as  one  who  could  live 
independently,  if  necessary,  of  the  society  of  his 
fellow  men.  I  should  like  to  bo  his  friend,  was  my 
thought,  as  finding  that  Hubert  was  watching  me, 
I  turned  my  attention  to  my  neglected  dinner. 
Mrs.  Flaxman  in  her  gentle  fashion  kept  the  con- 
versation from  utterly  ilagging,  although  we 
none  of  us  gave  her  much  help.  Unasked  she  gave 
a  pleasant  account  of  tho  ha[)pening8  at  Oaklands, 
the  ongoings  of  his  human  and  dumb  dependents ; 
how  the  Alderneys  at  her  suggestion  had  been 
transferred  to  richer  pasturage,  and  the  consequent 
increase  in  cream  ;  the  innnenso  crop  of  fruit  and 
vegetables,  so  much  more  than  they  could  possibly 
require,  and  would  it  bo  best  to  sell  the  overplus  ? 

"  Why  not  give  it  to  the  poor  ?"  I  said,  eagerly. 

"  Would  that  pay,  do  you  think? "'  Mr.  Winthrop 
inquired,  giving  me  at  tho  same  time  a  curiously 
intent  look. 

"  The  poor  would  thank  you." 

"  How  do  you  know  there  are  any  ?  " 


WORK. 

ussuriiig.  I  liiid 
her  in  tlio  oon- 
inii,  tuU,  broiid- 
;e,  though  liand- 
I  fult  couUl  h)ok 
iHploasurc.  Itut 
ligli,  intoUoctual 
look  tliat  seemed 
J  wlu)  couUl  live 

0  society  of  his 
s  friend,  was  my 
as  watching  me, 
jglected  dinner. 
Ml  kept  the  con- 
,  altliough  we 
Fnask'edsliegave 
igs  at  Oakhinds, 
nib  dependents; 
istion  had  been 

1  the  consequent 
lop  of  fruit  and 
y  could  possibly 
ill  the  overplus  ? 
'  I  said,  eagerly. 
*'  Mr.  Winthrop 
time  a  curiously 


ny?' 


Mn.  wi  NTH  nop. 


65 


"  I  have  met  a  good  luany  inynclf.  I  dare  say 
there  arc  others  1  kintw  nothing  about." 

lie  turned  a  keen  look  at  Mrs.  Klaxinan  ;  I  saw 
her  face  flush  ;  probably  ho  noticed  it  as  well  as  I. 
Then  ho  said,  quite  gravely: — 

"  Yon  shall  have  all  the  surplus  for  your  needy 
acquaintances;  only  you  must  superintend  the 
distribution.  I  firmly  believe  in  giving  philan- 
thropists their  share  of  the  Libor." 

The  coh)r  flamed  into  my  face,  I  could  hardly 
repress  the  retort:—"  Why  do  you  spoil  the  grace 
of  your  gift  so  ungraciously  ?  "  but  I  left  the  words 
unsaid  until  he  left  the  room,  when  I  relieved  my 
feelings  much  to  Hubert's  amusement,  who  bright- 
ened greatly  once  the  door  was  closed  upon  liim 
and  we  were  alone. 

"  I  could  like  that  man  better  than  any  one  I 
know  if  he  hadn't  such  a  beastly  way  of  coiifer- 
ring  favors.  Once  I  get  earning  money  I  shall  pay 
him  every  cent  that  I  have  cost  him,"  Hubert  said 
vindictively. 

"  Including  Faery  and  the  choice  cigars  ?  "  his 
mother  asked,  with  a  sad  little  smile. 

Hubert  flushed.  "  What  are  they  to  one  of  liia 
means  ?  " 

"  But  if  you  pay  him  some  day  it  will  take  you 

so  much  longer  to  pay  for  them,"  I  said,  mrprised 

he  had  not  remembered  this. 

"  I  can't  i)art  with  P'aery.     Youth  is  such  a  beg- 
d 


ij);' 


Hi 


,liJ 


66 


MEDOLINE  BELWYira  WORK. 


fp 


garly  short  affair,  if  one  can't  have  pleasure  tlien, 
when  will  they  get  it?  " 

"  I  should  think  it  was  high-priced  pleasure  if  I 
had  to  take  it  on  those  terms." 

"  You  have  no  idea  v/hat  prices  men  are  willing 
to  pay  for  what  they  desire.  Faery  even  with  my 
means  would  seem  a  mere  bagatelle  to  most  young 
fellows  of  my  set." 

"  I  would  really  like  to  know  what  your  means 
are,"  his  mother  said,  playfully. 

"  Principally  my  profession,  when  I  get  it ;  capital 
health,  and  a  world  full  of  work  to  be.  done  by 
some  one.  I  shall  stand  as  good  a  chance  as  any 
one  to  get  my  share  of  the  world's  rewards  for  good 
work  accomplished." 

"  Bravo,  Mr.  Hubert.  I  only  wish  I  was  a  boy 
so  I  might  go  to  work  too,"  I  cried. 

"  Hush,  the  master  will  hear  you.  I  told  you  he 
was  fastidious  about  ladies'  deportment.  Even  the 
housemaids  and  cook  catch  the  infection.  I  cer- 
tainly pity  his  poor  ward." 

♦'  Please  do  not  waste  pity  on  me  ;  if  Mr.  Win- 
throp  is  not  nice,  I  ihaW  go  to  Boston  or  New  York 
and  teach  German  in  some  boarding-school." 

A  low,  long  whistla  was  his  only  reply. 

"  Hubert,  have  you  forgotten  yourself  ?  Mr. 
Winthrop  will  think  we  have  got  demoralized." 

"  Forgive  me,  mother  mine,  but  Miss  Selwyii 
astounded  me.     Fancy  her  working  for  her  bread." 


i 


ORK. 

i  pleasure  tlien, 

ed  pleasure  if  I 

men  are  willing 
■y  even  with  my 
e  to  most  young 

rhat  your  means 

1 1  get  it;  capital 

;  to  be.  done  by 

a  chance  as  any 

rewards  for  good 

dsh  I  was  a  boy 

i. 

1.    I  told  you  he 

ment.     Even  the 

nfection.    I  cer- 

me  ;  if  Mr.  Win- 
ton  or  New  York 
ng-school.'' 
y  reply. 

yourself  ?       Mr. 
iemoralized." 
ut  Miss   Selwyii 
ig  for  her  bread." 


"-  »««««««i«W«V««F».«*i4X^«MA';'^. 


MR.  WINTHROP.  |f 

".And  liberty,"  I  said,  merrily. 

"  You  have  got  an  instalment  of  that  already, 
permission  to  dispense  the  fruit  and  vegetables. 
Tlie  work  has  been  given  as  a  punishment  for 
making  acquaintance  with  common  people." 

"  That  will  be  a  pleasure  ;  see  what  I  am  already 
doing  for  some  of  them."  I  took  my  forgotten 
knitting  work  from  my  pocket. 

"  I  deeply  regret  I  must  so  soon  leave  Oaklands. 
I  really  think  you  will  make  things  livelier  here 
th«n  they  have  been  since  Mr.  Wintlirop  was  a  lad. 
Just  for  one  moment,  mother,  try  to  imagine  iis 
disgust  Tvhen  lie  finds  his  high-bred  ward  knitting 
socks  for  Dan  Blake's  little  monkeys." 

"  Dan  Blake  has  no  children,  Hubert,"  his  mother 
said,  gravely ;  "  and  I  am  not  going  to  trouble  my- 
self about  what  may  never  happen.  It  is  not  nec- 
essary for  Mr.  Winthrop  to  know  how  his  ward 
spends  her  spare  time  and  pocket  money." 

"  But  he  would  as  soon  think  of  exchanging 
civilities  with  his  own  dumb  animals  as  with  those 
folk  on  the  Mill  Road ;  and,  yet,  right  under  his 
nose  tl\ese  little  arrangements  getting  manufac- 
tured !  it  is  carrying  the  war  into  the  enemy's  camp 
with  a  vengeance." 

"  Is  that  a  specimen  of  your  college  conversation, 
Hubert?  If  so,  you  might  better  remain  at  Oak- 
lands." 

"  Surely,  mother,  j-ou  don't  expect  us  to  talk  like 


r1i--,< 


•'/^i\- 


...  ^<i 


68 


MEDOLINE  SEUVYN'S  WORK. 


1 


4      ■    J 


a  sewing  society  or  select  gathering  of  maiden 
ladies,"  Hubert  said  with  some  disgust.  "Fancy 
a  lot  of  young  fellows  picking  and  choosing  their 
words  as  if  they  were  a  company  of  prigs." 

"  If  every  word  we  utter  contiuaeo  to  vibrate  in 
the  air  until  the  final  wreck  of  matter,  as  some 
scientists  suppose,  surely  we  can't  be  too  careful  of 
our  words,  my  son." 

"  If  we  believe  all  the  nonsense  those  chaps  who 
are  continually  meddling  with  nature's  secrets  tell 
us,  we  should  sit  with  shut  lips  and  folded  hands 
lest  we  would  destroy  the  equilibrium  of  the  uni- 
verse, or  our  own  destiny.  There  is  any  quantity 
of  bosh  let  loose  on  poor,  long-suffering  humanity, 
and  labeled  Science.' " 

"  That  comes  with  bad  grace  from  an  embryo 
scholar.  If  I  were  you  I  would  throw  education 
'  to  the  dogs '  and  take  things  on  trust  like  Thomas, 
or  the  Mill  Road  peoi)le,"  I  said,  jestingly. 

"  1  want  to  know  for  myself;  and  so  not  get 
cheated  by  every  crank  who  airs  his  theories." 

"But,  Hubert,  to  come  back  to  the  original 
dispute,  if  the  atmosphere  does  not  hold  our  every 
foolish  or  necesiiary  word,  they  are  permanently  re- 
corded in  another  place  by  a  pen  that  never  writes 
falsely,  or  misses  a  single  sentence.  How  many 
pages  have  you  got  written  there,  I  wonder,  that  if 
it  wore  possible  you  would  gladly  obliterate  with 
your  heart's  blood  one  day." 


*RK. 


Id  It.    WIN  Til  HOP. 


69 


ing  of  maiden 
just.  "  Faucy 
choosing  their 
prigs.'' 

55  to  vibrate  in 
latter,  as  some 
a  too  careful  of 

bose  chaps  who 
re's  secrets  tell 
I  folded  hands 
iura  of  the  uni- 
is  any  quantity 
iring  humanity, 

rom  an  embryo 
lirow  education 
1st  like  Thomas, 
istingly. 

and  so  not  get 
is  theories." 
to  the  original 
;  hold  our  every 
permanently  re- 
liat  never  writes 
je.  How  many 
I  wonder,  that  if 
f  obliterate  with 


"  Mother,  you  are  worse  than  the  scientists ;  at 
least  moro  terrifying.  Do  you  know,  Miss  Selwyn, 
wiien  I  was  a  littlp  chap  she  had  me  persuaded  to 
be  a  missionary  to  Greenhuul,  or  the  Soutli  Pole. 
I  had  made  up  my  mind  to  choose  the  very  worst 
possible  place,  so  as  to  have  all  the  greater  reward." 

"  What  has  changed  your  mind  ?  " 

*'  Natural  development,  I  expect.  Mother  is  a 
very  sweet  and  gentle  woman,  but  I  am  sorry  to 
say  she  is  a  crank,  if  there  was  ever  one." 

"  Why,  Hubert,  you  amaze  me,"  I  said,  smiling. 
"  I  tliought  she  was  as  near  perfection  as  any  one  I 
ever  knew.  T^xcuseme  expressing  myself  so  open- 
ly," I  said,  bowing  to  Mrs.  Flaxman ;  "  but  won't 
you  tell  me  what  her  tendency  to  insanity  is ;  for  I 
believe  cranks  are  a  species  of  madmen,  if  I  rightly 
understand  what  the  word  implies. 

"  Over  religiosity.  Why,  really,  she  used  to 
make  me  long  for  martyrdom  when  I  was  a  child." 

*'  I  did  not  think  a  person  could  so  soon  outgrow 
early  piety,"  I  said,  dryly. 

Hubei't  colored  and  said  very  little  more  about 
his  mother's  early  lessons  after  that  to  me  ;  but  I 
could  see  that  his  strange  indifference  respecting 
t'iose  subjects  she  hold  as  most  important  of  any- 
thing withm  reach  of  humanity  pained  her  deeply. 


liri-': 


1 


,  ii. 


iL 


:.  ,-•; 


i  ■     1-^ 


I      ' 


M^ 


CHAPTER  VII. 


EXAMINATION. 


I' 


IIRECTLY  Mr.  Winthrop  had  attended  to 
m.-'-tters  at  once  claiming  his  attention  on 
his  return,  he  began  to  investigate  my  daily 
avocations.     I  showed  him  the  work  already  ac- 
complished, so  far  as  it  could  be  seen— the  knitting 
certainly  excepted.     My  sketches  in  water  colors 
and  oils  I  brought  out  rather  timidly  for  his  in- 
spection.    Mrs.  Flaxman  had  told  me  how  severe 
he  was  in  his  criticisms  on  careless  work,  and  pos- 
sibly all  through  my  painting  the  thought  what  he 
might  say  of  what  I  was  doing  had  a  strong  in- 
fluence on  the  quality  of  my  work.    In  some  re- 
spects, no  doubt,  it  helped  me  to  paint  more  care- 
fully and  copy  more  closely  from  nature ;  but,  on 
the   other  hand,  imagination  and  freedom  were 
restrained ;  and  it  is  possible  I  might  have  better 
satisfied  him  with  what  I  had  accomplished  if  I 
had  never  once  thought  about  his  opinion  as  I 
worked,    As  I  carried  them  into  the  library  that 


ad  attended  to 
lis  attention  on 
stigate  my  daily 
nrk  already  ac- 
in — the  knitting 
in  water  colors 
nidly  for  his  in- 
me  how  severe 
s  work,  and  pos- 
ihought  what  he 
ad  a  strong  in- 
rk.    In  some  re- 
paint more  care- 
nature ;  but,  on 
i  freedom  were 
ght  have  better 
ccomplished  if  I 
liis  opinion  as  I 
)  the  library  that 


EXAMINATION. 


71 


bright  early  autumn  morning,  I  felt  a  shrinking  at 
submitting  my  pictures,  in  tiieir  imperfection,  to  un- 
sympathetic eyes,  nmcli  as  a  mother  might  feel  at 
bringing  a  deformed  child  to  a  baby  show  ;  but  I 
had  alrio  a  measure  of  satisfaction,  since  I  could 
prove  to  my  guardian  that  I  had  not  been  idle, 
when  I  spread  before  him  copies,  more  f^v  less  de- 
fective, of  views  from  his  own  grounds.  The 
servants  had  watched  them  grow  under  my  pencil 
and  brush  with  an  interest  almost  equalling  my 
own ;  and  it  was  amusing  the  eagerness  which  even 
Thomas  evinced  to  be  painted  into  a  picture,  spoil- 
ing it  very  mucli,  to  my  mind,  by  insisting  on 
having  on, his  Sunday  clothes. 

Mr.  Winthrop  glanced  at  them  with  some  sur- 
prise as  he  saw  the  goodly  heap  ;  then  he  said : 
"  I  will  only  look  to-day  at  what  you  have  done 
since  coming  here.  Mrs.  Flaxman  tells  me  you 
have  accomplished  a  good  expenditure  of  paint." 

"  I  have  only  brought  those,  sir,  I  did  not  sup- 
pose you  cared  to  examine  my  school  work." 

"  Some  other  time  I  may  do  so  ;  but  do  you  say 
all  1,'iiese  have  been  done  since  you  came  here  ?  " 
He  picked  one  up,  not  noticing  apparently  my 
reply,  and  recognizing  the  view,  instantly  his  face 
brightened. 

"  Ah,  you  have  shown  taste  in  this  selection  ;  it 
is  one  of  my  favorite  views.  I  am  glad  you  prefer 
nature  to  mere  copying  from  another's  work  which 


72 


MEDOLINE  SELWYN'8  WORK. 


^1 


is  like  accepting  other  men's  ideas,  when  one  is 
capable  of  originating  them  of  one's  own."  He 
looked  at  it  closely  and  for  some  time  in  silence, 
then  with  no  further  word  of  praise  he  criticised  it 
mercilessly,  while  he  iwiiitod  out  fault  after  fault. 
I  could  only  acquiesce  in  the  correctness  of  his 
criticisms,  and  only  wondered  I  should  have  been 
so  blind  as  to  permit  such  glaring  faults  to  creep 
into  my  work.  Of  the  muny  scores  of  drawing 
and  painting  lessons  I  had  previously  taken,  not 
any  twelve  of  them,  to  say  the  least,  had  widened 
ray  knowledge  of  art  as  this  hour  spent  with  my 
guardian  over  that  first  picture  had  done.  I  looked 
at  him  with  a  provoked  sort  of  admiration,  surprised 
that  one  who  knew  so  well  h^w  iiature  should  be 
imitated,  did  not,  himself,  attempt  the  "task,  and 
angry  both  with  him  and  myself  that  I  was  being 
subjected  to  such  humiliation,  while  I  listened  to 
him  as  he  convinced  me  the  picture  I  thought  so 
good  was  a  mere  daub.  I  was  wise  enough,  and 
proud  enough  too,  not  to  make  any  sign  that  I  w<is 
undergoing  torture,  and  with  stoical  calmness 
permitted  him,  without  a  single  remonstrance,  to 
examine  every  picture  there,  even  the  one  contain- 
ing Thomas  in  his  Sunday  suit,  as  he  stood  survey- 
ing with  idealized  face,  a  superb  patch  of  cabbages. 
"  Fancy  has  run  riot  with  you  there  entirely  ;  if 
the  gardener  were  surveying  his  sweetheart  in  the 
church  choir  he  might  have  some  such  seraphic 


i,  when  one  is 
e*s  own."  Ho 
ime  in  silence, 
lie  criticised  it 
ult  after  fault. 
•ectness  of  his 
)ulil  have  been 
faults  to  creep 
OS  of  drawing 
isly  taken,  not 
t,  had  widened 
spent  with  my 
lone.  I  looked 
ition,  surprised 
ture  should  be 
the  'task,  and 
lat  I  was  being 
le  I  listened  to 
•e  I  thought  so 
je  enough,  and 
sign  that  I  Wiis 
oical  calmness 
sraonstrance,  to 
he  one  contain- 
e  stood  survey- 
;ch  of  cabbages, 
jro  entirely ;  if 
eetheart  in  the 
such  seraphic 


EXAMINATION. 


73 


expression,  but  it  is  utterly  thrown  away  on  those 
vegetables ;  his  face  and  his  broadcloth  coat  are  in 
perfect  harmony,"  Mr.  Winthrop  said,  with  even 
voice,  as  he  held  aloft  the  picture  that  all  tlie 
other  members  of  his  household  had  so  greatly 
admired. 

"  You  think,  then,  the  time  spent  in  these  has 
been  quite  wasted  ?  "     I  tried  to  say  calmly. 

"  A  genuine  artist,  no  doubt,  would  say  without 
jr  moment's  hesitation  that  the  paint  was  thrown 
away.  As  for  the  time,  he  would  probably  say 
a  young  girl's  time  was  of  little  consequence  in 
any  case.  I  am  not  an  artist,  and  do  not  value 
paint  at  a  high  figure ;  so  I  most  decidedly  affirm 
that  you  made  an  excellent  use  of  the  paint. 
Labor  conscientiousl}'  spent  in  decorating  a  barn 
door  is  well  employed.  The  door  may  not  be  much 
the  better,  but  the  person  who  tries  to  improve  its 
appearance  witli  painstaking  care  is  benefited." 

"Then  I  may  conscientiously  continue  decorat- 
ing canvas,  or  at  least  trying  to  do  so." 

"  1  should  certainly  desire  and  advise  you  to  do 
so  ;  but  instead  of  covering  so  many,  if  you  would 
take  time  and  talent  in  elaborating  one  picture,  I 
would  be  better  pleased." 

He  laid  the  pictures  to  one  side.  "  We  will  con- 
tinue this  study  more  exhaustingly  in  tlie  future ; 
to-day  I  want  to  speak  of  other  things.  You  have 
made  use  of  my  library,  Mrs.  Flaxman  also  informs 


•'1    ' 


,,i 


1  \Z 

in 


,4 


I 


V. 


74 


MEDOLINE  SELWYN'8  WORK. 


1110.  Will  you  please  tell  me  what  books  you  Vve 
l^eei-;  reading?" 

T  \.  ent  to  <  \\&  shelv  i  and  took  down  the  books 
T  had  spent  most  time  over,  a  good  many  were 
ru.  Tdh ;  and  on  these  I  felt  certain  I  could  pass  a 
faivJ  V  <Tood  examination,  since  I  had  read  some  of 
them^Vil;h  absorbed  interest;  novels  of  all  kinds 
were,  for  the  most  part,  forbidden  mental  food  at 
school,  and  therefore,  when  opportunity  offered,  I 
dipped  into  them  with  the  keener  avidity.  But 
my  mind  was  healthy  enough  to  crave  more  solid 
food  than  fiction  alone,  and  I  was  glad  to  be  able 
to  hand  my  guardian  a  volume  or  two  of  Carlyle's 
Frederick,  Froude's  Csesar,  Motley's  Rise  of  the 
Dutch  Republic,  and  a  couple  of  volumes  of  Ban- 
croft's History  of  the  United  States.     • 

"Have  you  read  all  these  since  you  came  to 
Oaklands?  "  he  asked,  with  evident  surprise. 

"  I  skipped  some  of  the  dull  passages ;  the  '  dry- 
as-dust '  parts  of  which  I  found  a  few  even  in 
Carlyle." 

"  Could  you  stand  an  examination,  think  you,  in 
each  or  any  of  them  ?  " 

"  I  am  willing  to  try,"  I  said,  seating  myself  on 
the  opposite  side  of  the  table  with  folded  hands, 
and  possibly  a  martyrlike  air  of  resignation. 

"  Since  you  are  so  willing  we  will  take  Froude's 
Csesar  to-day ;  let  me  hear  you  give  a  digest  of  the 
entire  book," 


T    ■    ~ 


WORK. 

;  books  you  Vve 

down  the  books 
ood  many  vvero 
,u  I  could  pass  a 
lad  read  some  of 
rels  of  all  kinds 

I  mental  food  at 
tunity  offered,  I 
sr  avidity.  But 
jrave  more  solid 

glad  to  be  able 
two  of  Carlyle's 
3y's  Rise  of  the 
volumes  of  Ban- 
es. 

36  you  came  to 
it  surprise. 
sages ;  the  '  dry- 

a  few  eveu   in 

m,  think  you,  in 

ating  myself  on 
th  folded  hands, 
signation. 

II  take  Froude's 
3  a  digest  of  the 


EXAMISATlOy. 


7$ 


My  eyes  snorkled  ;  for  this  was  the  last  volume 
1  had  ruud,  and  the  author  had  infused  into  my 
mind  a  strong  leaven  of  his  own  hero-worship  for 
the  majestic  Ctesar.  I  was  surprised  at  the  ease 
with  which  I  repeated  chapter  after  chapter  of 
those  stirring  incidents,  while  with  his  stern, 
inscrutable  face,  my  guardian  turned  the  leaves  to 
follow  me  in  my  rapid  flight  from  tragedy  to 
tragedy  in  those  stormy  times. 

He  laid  the  book  down  without  comment,  and, 
glancing  at  the  remainder  of  the  pile  paused  a 
moment,  and  then  said :  "  I  will  defer  the  criti- 
cisms on  these  to  -^ome  other  day.  Your  memory 
as  well  as  vocal  organs  will  be  fatigued." 

I  meanwhile  resolved  to  consult  those  books 
again  before  the  further  examination  should  take 
place. 

"  You  have  practised  every  day  on  the  piano  in 
addition  lo  your  other  work ;  may  I  ask  how  long 
a  time  you  allowed  yourself  ?  " 

"  At  least  an  liour,  sometimes  when  it  was  wet 
or  unpleasant  out  of  doors  I  took  longer  time. 
Never  more  than  three  hours,  I  believe." 

"  We  will  take  an  hour  or  two  after  dinner  over 
your  music,  after  this  once  a  Aveek,  we  will  spend 
a  short  time  in  reviewing  what  you  read  " 

A  new  r»nxiety  seized  me  at  this  promised  ordeal. 
I  fancied  examinations  and  I  had  said  good-bye 
forever  when  I  left  the  school-rooni. 


78 


MEDOLINK  HKLWYN'S  WOllK. 


•    y 


fit. 


"  I  trust  you  will  not  tliink  ino  hovcio  if  I  irjsist 
on  thoroughness  in  everything.  I  am  weivricd  seo- 
ingso  much  good  money  and  tinio  wasted  on  young 
girls  I  With  the  luajority  of  them,  once  thoy  havo 
loft  their  teacher's  side,  all  thciir  interest  in  further 
mental  culture  is  at  an  end." 

"  Some  great  writers  say  that  our  schooling  is 
simply  to  train  the  mind  to  work,  littiug  it,  so  to 
speak,  with  necessary  tools  like  a  well-eciuipped 
mechanic." 

"  But  if  the  tools  are  never  utilized,  what  good 
are  they  merely  to  lie  and  rust?" 

"  Who  can  adirin  positively  that  they  are  never 
utilized?  Even  tiie  shallowest  boarding-school 
Miss  may  carry  herself  more  gracefidly  in  society 
than  one  of  your  usefulcst  women — Mrs.  Blake, 
for  instivnce." 

"  How  do  you  know  anything  about  Mrs.  Blake?" 
he  asked  abruptly 

"  I  met  her  on  the  train  when  I  came  hero  and 
she  talked  some  time  with  me." 

"  It  is  not  usual  for  persons  in  your  position  to 
permit  such  liberties." 

"  I  thought  in  America  all  were  reckoned  equal." 

"  You  are  not  an  American." 

*'  Shall  I  return  then  to  Europe  ?  I  could  always 
travel  fii-st-class,  and  so  be  safe  from  vulgar  in- 
trusion." 

"  Until  your  majority  your  father  decided  that 


^ll, 


OllK. 

lovcro  if  I  insist 
am  weiiric^l  Huc- 
viisted  on  younjj 
,  onco  tlioy  Imvo 
terest  in  furthor 

our  schooling  is 
,  fitting  it,  so  to 
a.  woll-o(inij)ped 

lized,  what  good 

t  they  are  never 

hoarding-school 

efiiUy  in  society 

!U — Mrs.  Blake, 

)ut  Mrs.  Blake?" 

came  here  and 

your  position  to 

reckoned  equal." 

?  I  could  always 
from  vulgar  in- 

her  decided  that 


EXAMINATION. 


n 


your  liouie  was  to  he  here  after  you  left  school." 

"At  what  ago  do  1  attain  my  majority  ?  "  I  asked 
eagerly. 

"Are  you  tired  of  Oaklands?"  His  eyes  were 
watching  mo  intently. 

"  Never,  until  to  day."  I  faltered,  exceedingly 
frightened,  hut  forced  to  tell  the  truth. 

He  turned  over  the  leaves  of  the  Ciesar  for  a  few 
seconds,  in  silence,  then  he  said  in  quite  gentle 
tones : — 

"  You  are  tired  ;  we  will  leave  books  for  another 
day." 

I  bowed,  but  dared  not  trust  myself  to  speak  lest 
I  might  reveal  that  my  tears  were  struggling  to  find 
vent,  and  began  gathering  up  my  sketches.  He 
took  up  a  view  of  Oaklands  over  which  I  had  lin- 
gered lovingly  for  a  good  many  hours,  adding  what 
I  fondly  thought  were  perfecting  touches  and 
said  : — 

"  I  should  like  to  keep  this,  if  you  will  give  it  to 
me." 

My  heart  instantly  grew  lighter,  so  that  I  waa 
able  to  say  quite  calmly  that  he  was  very  welcome 
to  it.  Tills,  however,  was  the  only  compliment  ho 
paid  me  for  the  work  over  which  I  had  been  ex- 
pending so  much  time  and  effort  during  tiie  past 
few  months ;  but  I  had  done  tlie  work  much  in 
the  same  fashion  that  the  birds  sing — from  instinct. 


i:  t 


l'» 


r 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


MU8.  LARKUM. 


1i 


^ 

t 


11. 

•  -,_ 


i  -if 


||UBERT  left  for  college  before  the  time 
came  ivround  for  the  distribution  of  our 
ripened  fruit,  and  vegetables,  for  which 
fact  I  was  very  glad.  I  knew  Ihe  task  was 
going  to  bo  no  easy  one,  with  Mr.  Wiiithrop 
hileutly,  and  no  doubt  sarcastically,  watching  ino ; 
and  Hubert's  good  humored  raillery  would  in  no 
wise  lighten  my  cares. 

Mrs.  Flaxnian  counseled  me  as  wisely  n  she 
knew,  but  Mrs.  Blake  was  my  greatest  help  in  the 
matter.  Mr.  Winthrop  had  not  discovered,  or  if 
he  had,  did  not  interfere  with  my  continued  friend- 
ship for  that  worthy  woman  ;  so  in  my  present  per- 
plexities I  came  to  her  for  advice  and  consolation. 

She  promised  to  notify  all  her  poor  acqnaintances 
when  they  were  to  come  for  their  share  of  our  gifts ; 
she  assured  me  there  was  already  considerable  in- 
terest, as  well  as  surprise,  awakened  by  the  expecta- 
tion of  such  a  gathering  at  Oaklands. 


^»-,.. 


before  tlio  time 
itiibiitioii  of  our 
ables,  for  whicli 
V    the    tusk    Wiis 

I  Mr.  Wiiithrop 
y,  watcbing  tnc ; 
ery  would  iu  no 

[V3  wisely  n     she 

iatcst  belp  in  tbo 

discovered,  or  if 

continued  frieiid- 

II  my  present  pcr- 
and  consolation, 
or  acqnaint.ance8 
bare  of  our  gifts ; 
'  considerable  la- 
id by  the  expecta- 
nds. 


r 


MHS.  lAiiKuyr. 


n 


For  several  days  I  watcbed  Thomas  and  Samuel 
Htoring  away  Huch  vast  quantities  of  fruit  and 
vogotablort,  that  I  concluded  wo  could  safely  stand 
Heigo  for  a  good  many  months,  but  I  ruefully  deter- 
mined tlicro  woidd  1)0  little  reniaining  for  mo  to 
distribute.  lint  on»^  bright  morning,  just  in  range 
with  my  own  windows,  I  saw  tbo  gardener  nailing 
up  some  wooden  booths,  and  when  completed,  they 
began  to  pour  in  great  basketfuls  of  all  sorts  of 
vegetables,  and  iif lerward  in  s  arate  booths,  apples, 
pears,  and  i)lums.  I  Blippt;d  out  Iwfore  Mr.  Win- 
throp  was  astir  and  inquired  of  Thomas  if  these 
were  for  my  Mill  lioad  pensioners. 

"  Yes,  ma'am,  that  they  are  ;  and  did  I  ever  think 
I'd  live  to  see  this  day  ?  " 

"Why,  Thomas,  are  you  not  willing  to  shave  your 
bountiful  harvest  with  those  who  have  none?' 

"  Indeed  I  am.  It's  that  makes  me  so  glad  this 
morning.  I  had  that  good-for-nothing  Sam  up  at 
four  o'clock,  helping  me  saw  the  boards  to  build 
them  bins  to  put  the  garden  sass  in.  He  reckoned 
you'd  a  much  sight  better  have  been  staying  iu  them 
foreign  parts  than  be  giving  decent  folks  such 
bother.  I  give  him  a  clip  on  the  ear  that  made 
him  howl  in  earnest,  I  can  tell  you.  I  says  to  him, 
says  I,  'Why,  one  would  think  you  was  one  of  the 
aristocracy  yourself  to  hear  you  talk  so  indifferent 
like  about  tl»  loor  folk.  There's  Miss  Selwyn,  with 
full  and  plenty  „  and  see  bow  she  works  for  them  ; 


.V'l 


80 


MEDOLINE  SELWYN'S  WORK. 


r 
W 


!    * 


you'd  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself,'   I  says  to 
him." 

"  But  I  hope  you  won  t  punish  the  poor  fellow 
on  my  account  again — won't  you  please  give  him 
a.  holiday  soon,  for  getting  up  to  work  so  early  this 
morning  ?  " 

"I'll  see  about  it;  but  he  gets  holidays  right 
along  ;  he's  nothing  but  a  plague." 

I  saw  poor  Sam  scuttling  around  a  large  apple 
ti.e  quite  within  hearing  of  the  gardener's  voice, 
and  concluded  he  was  another  instance  of  listeners 
never  hearing  any  good  of  themselves.  I  did  very 
little  work  or  reading  that  day,  but  watched  from 
the  shelter  of  my  window  curtains  tlie  slowly  ac- 
cumulating pile.  Samuel,  I  noticed,  seemed  to 
work  with  unusual  cheerfulness,  and  even  the 
gardener  himself  did  not  empty  his  basket  any 
oftener  than  liis  well-abused  help.  Mr.  Winthrop 
passed  once  or  twice,  and  seemed  to  give  directions. 
I  fancied  he  glar.ced  up  to  my  window  as  he  stood 
watching  them  empty  their  baskets.  At  luncheon 
he  said : — 

"  Your  pensioners  may  come  this  afternoon,  and 
carry  away  their  produce." 

"  I  will  let  them  know  immediately." 

"  Will  you  go  and  tell  them  yourself  ?  "  he  asked, 
rather  sternly. 

"  I  can  do  so  with  all  safety  ;  '.ney  are  pe^-i  ectly 
harmless."     I  gave  him  a  mutinous  look,  but  my 


Y 


V 


,    f 


fVORK. 

rself,'   I  says  to 

the  poor  fellow 
please  give  him 
ork  so  early  this 

s  holidays  right 

nd  a  large  apple 
jardener's  voice, 
ance  of  listeners 
ves.  I  did  very 
ut  watched  from 
lis  tlie  slowly  ac- 
iced,  seemed  to 
,  and"  even  the 
his  basket  any 
Mr.  Winthrop 
1  give  directions, 
idow  as  he  stood 
;s.     At  luncheon 

is  afternoon,  and 

,tely." 

rself?"  he  asked, 

ney  are  pe^-iectly 
)us  look,  but  my 


MRS.  LARKUM. 


81 


heart  fluttered  ;  for,  in  spite  of  myself,  I  was  very 
much  afraid  of  my  guardian. 

"  You  must  not  go  about  from  house  to  house 
l-eddiiiig  your  generosity,"  he  said,  sarcastically. 

"  It  Js  your  generosity,  Mr.  Winthrop,"  I  said 
gravely;  "besides,  I  do  not  go  to  their  houses  at 
all.  I  have  only  to  acquaint  Mrs.  Blake  that  your 
gift  is  ready  for  distribution." 

"  One  of  the  servants  will  go  to  Mrs.  Blake. 
You  will  need  all  your  strength  -o  maintain  the 
proprieties  when  your  ragged  crowd  comes." 

"  Have  you  ever  seen  the  Mill  Road  people  ?  " 
I  asked  abruptly. 

"Probably  on  the  streets  sometimes;  but  are 
they  a  very  distinguished  looking  crowd,  that  you 
ask  ?  " 

"  No,  but  they  are  human  beings  just  like  our- 
selves, created  in  God's  image  as  clearly  as  tho 
President  of  these  United  States,  and  some  of  them 
fulfilling  the  end  for  which  they  were  made  quite 
as  acceiJtably,  perhaps." 

"  The  President  would,  no  doubt,  feel  flattered 
to  have  his  name  so  coujded." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Mr.  Winthrop,  I  had  forgot^ 
ten  your  Presidents  conquered  the  high  position 
they  fill,  and  are  not  born  to  it  like  mere  puppets." 

"You  will  compare  your  humble  friends  with 
European  Royalties  then,  I  presume." 

"  Oh,  any  one  dropping  into  a  soft  nest  prepared 
6 


(Tt 

i  ',"■ 


I       I 
I       t. 


h' 


■■} 


82  MEDOLINE  SELWYN'S  WORK. 

for  them  by  others  will  do  just  as  well,"  I  said,  not 
very  politely. 

Mrs.  Flaxmaii  looked  on  helplessly  as  she  sat 
nervously  creasing  her  napkin  ;  then  with  a  sudden 
look  of  relief  she  said :  "  Shall  I  despatch  Esmerelda 
to  the  Mill  Road  ?  They  will  have  little  enough 
time  to  get  all  that  heap  of  good  things  carried 
away  before  night." 

Mr.  Winthrop  signified  his  willingness,  and  as 
she  was  leaving  the  room  Mrs.  Flaxman,  by  a  look, 
summoned  me  to  follow  lier.  Once  outside  she 
said  in  her  gentle  way :— »  I  would  not  get  arguing 
with  Mr.  Winthrop  if  I  were  you.  He  is  a  good 
deal  older,  and,  pardon  me,  a  good  deal  wiser ;  and 
while  he  never  seems  to  lose  his  own  temper  he 
very  easily  makes  others  lose  theirs."     ■ 

"  I  will  try  not  to,"  I  said,  very  humbly,  for  now 
that  my  temper  had  calmed  I  realized  that  I  had 
been  very  foolish  in  saying  what  I  did..    I  went 
sorrowfully  to  my  room,  and,  taking  my  knittmg 
work,  I  sat  down  in  my  easy  chair  wliere  I  could 
watch  them  working  busily   at  the   vegetables. 
But  there  came  so  many  desolate,  homesick  fancies 
to  keep  me  company,  that  pretty  soon  my  eyes 
were  so  blinded  witli  tears  I  could  scarcely  see  the 
enlivening  prospect  under  my  windows.   Ashamed 
of  my  weakness  I  set  myself  resolutely  to  thinking 
of  Daniel  Blake  and  his  heavy,  sad  life  ;  of  the 
poor  barefoot  cliildren,  and  tired  mothers  on  the 


ORK. 

ell,"  I  said,  not 

jsly  as  slie  sat 
a  with  a  sudden 
atch  Esmerelda 
e  little  enough 
things  carried 

lingness,  and  as 
Luian,  by  a  look, 
ice  outside  she 
not  get  arguing 
He  is  a  good 
deal  wiser ;  and 
owri  temper  he 
s."     . 

humbly,  for  now 
lized  that  I  had 
i  I  did..    I  went 
ing  my  knitting 
ir  where  I  could 
the   vegetables, 
homesick  fancies 
y  soon  my  eyes 
I  scarcely  see  the 
idows.   Ashamed 
.utely  to  thinking 
sad  life  ;  of  the 
i  mothers  on  the 


-WK.S.  LARKVM. 


88 


1 


Mill  Road  ;  and  of  all  tlie  sadder  hearts  than  mine 
should  be,  until  the  sultry,  still  air,  and  monotonous 
click  of  the  knitting  needles  overcame  my  heart-  * 
aches,  and  I  went  fast  asleep.  A  knock  at  the 
door  startled  me.  Hastily  opening  it,  I  met 
Esmerelda,  who  had  come  to  announce  the  arrival 
of  her  neighbors. 

"  There's  a  good  lot  of  them  coming,  and  they 
look  as  frightened,  and  foolish  as  so  many  doga 
that's  been  caught  sheep  killing.  I  declare  I  pity 
them." 

"  Where  is  Mr.  Winthrop  ?  "  I  gasped. 

"  Oh,  you  may  be  certain  he's  not  far  ofif ;  it's 
just  death  to  him  having  so  many  of  them  poor 
wretches  coming  around  hLs  place.  I  can't  think 
why  he  lets  them." 

"I  will  be  there  presently,  Esmerelda,"  I  said, 
turning  away.  It  was  certainly  not  my  place  to  aUow 
her  to  stand  theve  gossiping  about  her  employer. 

I  did  not  wait  to  brush  my  rumpled  hair  or 
bestow  more  than  a  passing  glance  in  the  mirror, 
where  I  caught  sight  of  a  pair  of  wide,  frightened 
eyes  and  an  unusually  pale  face.  Mr.  Winthrop 
was  waiting  for  me  in  the  hall.  In  my  excitement 
I  still  held  in  my  hand  the  little  sock  I  had  been 
knitting.  He  glanced  at  it  curiously,  but  made 
no  mention  of  it. 

"  Your  pensioners  have  come— a  beggarly  look- 
ing crowd." 


(u . 


},;  § , 


8A 


MEDOLISE  SELWYN'S  WORK. 


"  Are  there  many  ? "  „  ,         x 

uNot  more  than  a  dozen.  You  will  have  to 
negotiate  viih  Thomas  to  get  your  gifts  carted 
home.  Their  baskets  will  hold  only  a  tithe  of  wiiat 
you  have  to  donate."  ^^ 

»  May  I  tell  him  to  get  the  horses  ? 

I  looked  up  at  him,  I  dare  suy,  appealingly ;  for 
I  felt  quite  overwhelmed  with  care.     He  smiled 

grimly.  •  .  » 

"  You  may  order  all  the  servants  to  go  to  work 

-anything  to  get  that  crowd  away."  ^^ 

"Don't  you  feel  sorry  for  them,  Mr.  Winthrop . 

I  pleaded.     "  Just  think  how  hard  it  is  to  be  poor, 

Jd  to  come  to  you  with  a  baske^  for  vegetables.  _ 

"  Yes,  that  hist  must  be  the  bitterest  drop  m  their 

misery,"  he  said,  sarcastically.     We  were  walking 

slowly  around  to  the  garden,  but  our  progress  was 

much  too  swift  for  my  courage.     I  would  gladly 

have  walked  the  entire  length  of  Cavendish  to  have 

escaped  what  had  now  become  a  very  difficult  task. 

I  resolved  on  one  thing,  however  ;  not  to  be  drawn 

into  any  further  conversation  vath  Mr.  Winthrop, 

nor  allow  him  to  c  .trap  me  in  his  mercdess  way 

''^A  bend  in  the  garden  walk  brought  me  face  to. 
face  with  the  Mill  Road  people ;  the  crowd  con- 
sisted principally  of  women  and  boys;  only  a  man 
or  two  condescending  to  come  with  their  baskets ; 
or  it  may  be  they  thought  the  loss  of  a  half  day  in 


V> 


J 


ms. 


Mim.  LAUKUM. 


85 


1  will  have  to 
ur  gifts  carted 
r  a  tithe  of  what 

8?" 

ppealingly;  for 
lie.     He  smiled 

ts  to  go  to  work 

Mr.Winthrop?" 
.  it  is  to  be  poor, 
for  vegetables." 
rest  drop  in  their 
Ve  were  walking 
our  progress  was 
I  would  gladly 
'avendish  to  have 
rery  difficult  task- 
not  to  be  drawn 
;h  Mr.  Wintlirop, 
his  merciless  way 

jught  me  face  to. 
;  the  crowd  con- 
boys  ;  only  a  man 
ni\\  their  baskets ; 
ss  of  a  lialf  day  in 


\ 


the  Mill  wouhl  bo  poorly  compensated  by  the 
garden  stuff  they  would  gut.  IMrs.  Blake  was 
there, — a  crape  veil  hanging  sideways  from  her 
bonnet,  which  I  took  as  a  mark  of  respect  for 
Daniel's  wife.  She  carried  no  basket;  and,  from  the 
compassionate  look  on  her  face,  I  concluded  she 
came  with  the  hope  to  lighten  my  task,  if  possible. 
I  went  directly  to  her,  and  shook  her  hand  as  cor- 
dially as  if  she  had  been  one  of  our  bluest  Wooded 
Cavendish  aristocracy.  I  saw  her  cast  a  half  fright- 
ened glance  at  Mr.  Wintlirop,  but  my  fearless 
manner  seemed  to  reassure  her,  as  she  soon  re- 
gained her  customary  coolness  of  demeanor.  I 
nodded  cordially  to  the  rest  of  the  group  who  all 
seemed  just  then  to  be  gazing  at  me  in  a  very  heli> 
less  manner.  I  endeavored  to  comport  myself  as  the 
easy  hostess  dispensing  the  hospitalities  of  my 
home  to  a  party  of  welcome  visitoi-s  ;  but  with  Mr. 
WintUiup  watching  my  eve  y  movement  I  found 
the  task  to  do  so  herculean.  The  gardener  stood 
watching  the  crowd  in  a  helpless  way,  apparently 
as  uncertain  what  to  do  first  as  any  of  them.  I 
looked  towards  Mr.  Winthrop ;  but  he  seemed 
deeply  interested,  judging  from  his  attitude  and 
expression,  in  tying  up  a  branch  of  an  overbur- 
dened pear  tree  ;  but  he  kept  his  face  turned  stead- 
ily towards  me  all  the  time,  I  could  not  help 
observing. 

"  What  shall  I  do  ?  "  I  whispered  to  Mi-s.  Blake. 


'l! 


i.i 


1  fj 


U' 


a 


hi 


it 


86 


MEnOLINE  SKLWYN'S  WORK. 


"  Tell  them  to  come  forred  and  fill  their  baakcls." 
I  eleareJ  my  throat,  and  stepping  np  to  tlio  gar- 
dener said :  "  If  you  will  please  come  now,  we  wiil 
fill  your  baskets." 

At  first  no  one  moved;  then  a  delicate,  pretty 
looking  woman,  with  red-rimmed  eyes  and  a  baby 
in  her  arms  came  timidly  forward. 

"  "What  would  you  like  best  ?  "  I  asked. 
"  Oh,  I  can't  tell ;  they  all  look  so  good." 
"We  are  going  to  send  all  of  this  that  is  left 
around  to  your  homes  in  a  wagon." 

"  I  might  take  some  of  these,"  she  said,  pointing 
longingly  to  the  apples  and  pears.  The  baby  was 
stretching  its  pinched  little  arms  out  to  them,  and 
cooing  in  a  pitiful,  suppressed  way,  as  if  it  realized 
it  and  must  be  on  its  good  behavior."  I  took  the 
little  creature  in  my  arms ;  its  clothes  were  clean, 
but  BO  thin  and  poor,  my  heart  ached,  while  I  looked 
at  them.  I  gave  it  my  watch,  which  it  carried  with 
all  speed  to  its  mouth  ;'  but  a  soft,  delicious  p^ar 
which  I  picked  from  the  very  limb  Mr.  Winthrop 
had  been  supporting,  caused  it  to  drop  the  watch 
indifferently. 

"  Don't  you  feel  sorry  for  this  little  crumb  of 
humanity?"  I  impulsively  asked,  forgetting  too 
speedily  my  determination  not  to  converse  with 
him  more  than  was  really  necessary. 

"  Did  Madame  Buhlman  give  you  lespons  in 
philanthropy  along  with  drawing  and  music  ?  " 


VOliK. 

U  their  baakets." 
ig  up  to  the  giu- 
nie  now,  wo  will 

,  iloliciite,  pnitly 
eyes  unci  ii  b;iby 

I  asketl. 
so  good." 
this  that  is  left 

slie  saitl,  pointing 
,  Tlie  baby  was 
out  to  tlicm,  anil 
y,  as  if  it  realized 
vior.'  I  took  tlie 
othes  were  clean, 
ed,  while  I  looked 
ich  it  carried  with 
)ft,  delicious  p«ar 
nb  Mr.  Winthrop 
o  drop  the  watch 

s  little  crumb  of 

id,  forgetting  too 

to  converse  with 

try. 

e   you  lespons  in 

r  and  music  ?  " 


MliS.  LARKUM. 


87 


"Oh  no,  indeed;  but  1  hope  God  has.  I  don't 
want  my  heart  to  be  a  rock  like  " — and  then  I  shut 
my  mouth  and  with  moist  eyes  and  ilushed  face 
turned  abnii)tly  from  liim. 

I  swallowed  down  my  tears,  but  my  heart  was 
too  sore  to  i)lay  any  longer  with  the  baby,  so  1 
slipped  it  back  into  its  mother's  arms,  who  had  got 
her  basket  filled  and  was  ready  to  start  for  home ; 
a  neighbor's  lad  liad  come  to  carry  it  for  her,  and 
with  quite  a  cheerful  face  she  bade  me  good-bye. 
The  rest  of  my  crowd  had  got  their  baskets  filled, 
and  paused  with  longincj  ovi-s  regarding  the  heaps 
that  still  remained.  1  made  their  faces  grow  sud- 
denly much  brighter  as,  v.  iili  a  slight  elevation  o*" 
voice,  I  said :  "  Thomas  will  carry  the  rest  of  thesu 
vegetables  around  for  you  with  the  horses.  You 
will  please  stand  at  your  doors,  and,  as  he  drives 
along,  come  out  for  it."  There  was  a  subdued 
muii'r^ur  of  thanks,  and  then  they  started  home- 
wards. Mrs.  Blake  waited  a  few  moments  behind 
them  to  look  around  the  old  place  where  she  had 
spent  so  many  days,  and  shook  hands  with  Thomas 
who  remembered  her  very  distinctly. 

"  It's  odd  doings  for  Oakhuids  having  yon  crowd 
come  with  their  baskets,"  he  said,  grimly;  "the 
young  miss  be  like  to  turn  things  topsy-turvey." 

"It's  high  time  somebody  did;  what  kind  of 
reckonins  will  folks  liave  bime-by,  of  all  their 
riches,  and  overplus,  and  so  many  of  their  own 


fi! 


88 


MEDOLINK  SEl.WYN'S  WORK. 


w 
.if 


I'! 


r 


I  i 


;t 


f? 


kind  of  flesh  and  blood  going  hungry  and  naked?" 
"Their  reckonins  bo  none  in  my  line.     I  sees  to 
the  roots  and  posies,  that  they  thrive ;  and  thcro 
my  work  ends." 

"Yes,  posies  arc  fed  and  sheltered,  and  little 
human  creetura  like  the  widow  Lurkuni's  there  can 
starve  for  all  the  great  folks  cares.  Deary  me !  it's 
a  terble  onjointcd  sort  of  world;  seems  to  me  I 
could  regilato  things  better  myself.  Well,  a  good 
afternoon,  Mr.  Prime." 

"  Good  afternoon,"  Mr.  Prime  coldly  responded. 
Plainly  he  did  not  enjoy  Mrs.  Blake's  freedom  of 
speech.  I  felt  my  trespasses  against  Mr.  Winthrop 
were  already  so  great  I  could  scarcely  increase 
them  by  leaving  Mrs.  Blake  abruptly^  so  I  walked 
with  her  through  the  old  gardens,  where  she  had 
many  a  time,  no  doubt,  dreamed  her  dreams  long 
before  my  spirit  got  started  on  its  long  voyage 
through  time  and  the  eternities.  I  accompanied 
her  all  the  way  to  the  gate,  listening  sadly  while 
she  told  me  for  the  second  time  the  sorrowful  story 
of  the  widow  Larkum,  whose  baby  I  had  just  been 
fondling.  "  Ever  since  her  man  fell  on  the  cir- 
cular saw  and  got  killed,  she's  been  crying  more  or 
less.  Her  eyes  look  as  if  they'd  been  bound  in 
turkey  red ;  and  I  tell  her  she'll  be  blind  soon  as 
well  as  her  father ;  but,  laws !  Avhen  the  tears  is 
there,  they  might  as  well  come.  It's  their  natur, 
I  s'pose,  to  be  a  droppin'." 


I 
I 


■<S 


WORK. 

;ry  and  naked?" 
y  lino.  I  sees  to 
uive ;  and  thcro 

tercd,  and  little 
.ikuni's  there  can 
I.  Deary  me  !  it's 
;  seems  to  me  I 
If.     Well,  a  good 

coldly  responded. 
lake's  freedom  of 
ist  Mr.  Winthrop 
scarcely  increase 
ptly^  so  I  walked 
IS,  where  she  had 
her  dreams  long 

its  long  voyage 
,  I  accompanied 
niiig  sadly  while 
le  sorrowful  story 
•y  I  had  just  been 

fell  on  the  cir- 
en  crying  more  or 
tl  been  bound  in 
be  blind  soon  as 
Avhen  the  tears  is 

It's  their  natur, 


MUS.  LARKUM. 


89 


T 


I 


t 

! 


"  What  is  to  support  them?  "  I  asked. 

"  I  guess  the  paiish,  but  my  !  they  dread  it.  I 
believe  Mr.  Bowen  would  bo  the  happiest  man  in 
town  if  the  Lord  would  send  liis  angels  for  him ; 
he's  about  the  best  Christian  I  ever  sot  eyes  on." 

"  I  think  I  can  lielp  them.  Does  it  cost  very 
much  to  keep  a  family." 

"  It  depends  on  how  they're  kept.  A  trillo 
would  do  them.  She's  that  savin',  the  hull  of  'em 
don't  cost  much  more'n  a  hearty  man." 

*'I  will  tell,  Thomas,  to  leave  plenty  of  his 
vegetables  with  her ;  and,  in  the  meantime,  will  you 
please  tell  her  that  I  will  help  to  keep  the  wolf 
from  her  door?" 

"  Indeed,  I  will,  and  be  glad  to.  I  can  do  a 
little  myself ;  so  you  won't  have  all  to  do ;  and  then 
she  is  right  handy  with  her  needle.  My !  I  feel  a 
burden  lifted  already.  I  couldn't  help  frettin'  as 
well  as  her,  though,  she's  no  more  to  me  than 
any  other  body." 

"  God  hsis  given  you  the  heart  that  feels  an- 
other's woes.  Every  one  don't  have  that  blessed 
gift." 

*'I  expect  not;  or  if  they  do,  it's  not  minded. 
Seem."*  to  me  the  master  looked  none  too  well 
pleased  along  wi'  us  bein'  there  to-day."  She 
looked  at  mo  keenly;  but  I  was  not  going  to  make 
my  moan  even  to  this  true-hearted  friend. 

"  I  hope  this  act  of  kindness  may  leave  him  so 


1  ' 


l: 


90 


MEDOLINE  SKUVYJU'S  WOltK. 


k 


happy  Unit  lio  will  givi;  iiio  li;ivo  to  give  nway  all 
tlie  umiseil  stuff  I  seo  going  to  wasto  about  tlio 
place,"  I  said,  a  tiiflo  hypocritically. 

"  He's  never  knew  what  want  is ;  and  any  way 
his  heart's  not  over  tender  naterally ;  but  there, 
young  women  can  do  most  anything  with  men 
folks  when  they're  good-lookin'  and  have  nice 
ways  wi'  'em.  There's  a  sight  of  difference  wi' 
girls.  Some  of  'em  without  any  trouble  get  riglit 
into  a  man's  heart,  and  they'll  gf)  througli  lire  and 
water  to  please  'em ;  and  others  may  bo  just  as 
good-lookin'  and  they  have  hard  work  to  get  any 
man  to  marry  'em.  I've  wondered  more'n  a  little 
about  it,  but  it's  a  mystery."  Siie  turned  her 
kindly  wrinkled  face  on  me  and  saitl,  "  You're  one 
of  them  kind  that  can  just  wind  a  man  round  your 
finger,  and  I'm  looking  for  better  days  at  Oak- 
lands.  My !  but  you  could  do  lots  of  good,  if  you 
got  him  on  your  side." 

"Oh,  Mrs.  Blake,  you  don't  know  i  nything 
about  it,  but  yo\i  are  to  be  disappointed  I  am  sure. 
But  I  can  do  something  without  any  one's  help. 
Good-bye." 

She  took  my  hand,  holding  it  for  some  time  in 
silence ;  then  she  said  softly :  '"  Dear,  you  can  get 
into  other  folk's  hearts  beside  the  men's." 


VOIIK. 

Lo  give  nway  all 
vastu  ubuut  tlio 

i ;  and  any  way 
ally ;  but  there, 
,hing  with   men 

and  have  Jiiuu 
f  difference  wi' 
rouble  get  rig) it 
through  lire  and 
may  bo  just  as 
vork  to  get  any 
I  more'n  a  little 
Siie  turned  her 
id,  "You're  one 
man  round  your 
r  days  at  Oak- 

of  good,  if  you 

know   1  nything 

linted  I  am  sure. 

any  one's  help. 

'or  some  tinie  in 
ear,  you  can  get 
men's." 


CHAPTER  IX. 

AN   EVENINU    WALK. 

■BfnilOMAS  got  his  garden  stuff  distributed 
^BBqI  satisfactorily.  "It  would  done  your  lioart 
«»•  good  to  see  how  pleased  the  Larkuuis  was 
over  their  share  :  I  give  'em  good  measure,  I  tell 
you,"  lie  informed  mo  that  evening,  as  I  made  an 
errand  to  the  stJiblcs  in  order  to  interview  him. 

"  Tliat  Mr.  Bowen,  lier  blind  father,  ho  conio 
out  too,  and  I've  not  got  better  pay  for  anything  for 
years  tlian  what  he  give  me,"  Thomas  continued 
solemnly. 

"  What  did  he  give  you  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Well  I  can't  just  go  over  his  words,  but  it 
minded  mo  of  the  blessing  the  preaclier  says  over 
us  before  we  go  out  of  church,  only  this  was  all 
just  for  you  and  me." 

"  You  have  found  to-day  that  it  is  more  blessed 
to  give  than  to  receive." 

"  That  Mrs.  Blake  wan't  far  astray;  but  there, 
I  woiddn't  let  on  to  the  likes  of  lier  that  Mr. 


03 


UKIHtUNK  SKIjWYN'S  WOIIK. 


VViiitlirop    might   do   more    for    thein.     Anyway 

Uieif's  no  Olio  gives   moro    for  tlio   poor   in    tlio 

pmisli,  nor  any  thing  nigh  as  much;  only  it.s  tuxos, 

and  one  don't  got  credit  fur  thoni." 

"It    is    only   for    want   of   thought,    Tliomas. 

llo  has  never  been  among  the  poor,  to  see  tliuir 

wants  and  sufferings." 

"  lUit  what  inakua  you  think,  and  the  rest  all 

forget  ?'' 

"  I  expect  it  is  hecause  my  memory  is  better.    I 

could  always  remember  my  lessons  at  school  better 

than  till)  most  of  the  pupils." 

*'  Ah,  Miss,  there's  more  than  the  memory.  I 
wish  there  was  more  rich  folks  like  you ;  it  would 
be  a  better  world  for  the  poor." 

11  is  words  startled  me,  the  thought  had  never 
before  occurred  to  me  that  I  might  be  rich.  I 
went  to  my  room,  and,  with  more  than  my  usual 
care,  dressed  for  dinner.  Compared  with  Esraer- 
elda's,  my  gowns  were  getting  shabby,  and  old- 
fashioned  ;  and  I  concluded  if  I  had  means  of  my 
own,  it  was  time  to  treat  myself  charitably  as 
well  as  my  poor  acquaintances.  The  dinner  bell 
rang  at  last,  and  I  went  down  with  some  trepida- 
tion to  meet  my  guardian.  My  conscience  con- 
fronted me  Avith  my  repeated  words  of  insubor- 
dination during  the  day,  commanding  me  to  apolo- 
gize for  my  rudeness  ;  but  instinct  with  a  stronger 
voice  counselled  silence.     As  we  took  our  seats  at 


vniiK. 

thein.     Anyway 
lio  poor   ill    tlio 

;  only  its  tuxos, 

I) 

Miylit,    Tliomas. 
oor,  to  seo  tliuir 

and  llio  rest  all 

lory  is  l)etter.    1 
s  ut  school  better 

the  moniory.    I 
to  you;  it  would 

)uglit  had  never 
light  be  rich.  I 
Q  than  my  usual 
vrcd  with  Esmer- 
shabby,  and  old- 
had  means  of  my 
;lf   charitably    as 

The  dinner  bell 
ith  some  trepida- 
•  conscience  con- 
mrds  of  insubor- 
ding  me  to  apolo- 
3t  with  a  stronger 

took  our  seats  at 


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f 


AN  EVENING  WALK. 


9a 


' 


dinner,  Mis.  Flaxman,  I  thought,  with  a  worried 
expression  was  furtively  regarding  us  ;   but  she  ■ 
kept  silent.    With  a  good-humored   smile    W- 
Winthrop  turned  to  me,  saying :  "  Your  crowd  did 
not  fall  to  quarrelling  over  the  spoil,  1  hope." 

"  I  wish  you  could  have  seen  how  good-humored 
they  were  on  leaving.  I  think  they  would  haye 
talked  above  their  breath  only  they  were  afraid." 

"  You  did  not  strike  me  as  looking  particularly 
formidable.  Indeed,  I  quite  pitied  you ;  for  you 
seemed  the  most  frightened,  nervous  one  in  the 

lot." 

"  They  were  not  afraid  of  me.  Even  the  widow 
Larkum's  baby  cooed  softly  until  you  were  out.  of 
sight." 

"  It  must  be  a  child  of  amazing  intelligence." 

Mrs.  Flaxman,  looking  more  anxious  than  ever 
hiterjected  a  remark,  not  very  relevantly,  about 
the  prospect  of  our  early  winter ;  but  Mr.  Win- 
throp allowed  her  remark  to  fall  unheeded. 

"  You  seem  particularly  interested  in  that  tender- 
eyed  widow  and  her  infant.  Is  it  long  since  you 
made  their  acquaintance  ?  " 

"  I  cannot  say  that  I  am  even  now  acquainted 
with  her."     I  answered  politely. 

"  I  should  judge  you  had  a  weakness  for  widows. 
Mi-s.  Blake  seems  on  very  cordial  terms  with  you." 

"I  would  take  just  as  much  interest  in  your 
widow,  Mr.  Winthrop,  if  she  was  poor  and  sorrow- 


fw 


m^'^ 


u 


MEDOLINS  8SLWTIP8  WORK. 


■Mil 


1  'r 


f ul.    The  wheel  of  fortune  may  make  a  revolution 
some  day,  and  give  me  the  opportunity." 

He  really  seemed  to  enjoy  the  retort  which  fell 
uncontrollably  from  my  lips. 

"  Allow  me  to  thank  you  beforehand  for  your 
kind  offices  to  that  afflicted  individual;  though 
the  prospect  for  their  being  required  is  not  very 
good  at  present." 

"  Mrs.  Fleming  has  sent  invitations  for  a  garden- 
party,"  Mrs.  Flaxman  interposed  desperately.  "  I 
think  Mr.  Winthrop  had  better  permit  you  to  go 
to  New  York  for  some  additions  to  your  toilet." 

"  I  will  accompany  her  myself ;  she  might  get 
entangled  with  widowers  on  her  next  trip." 

"  Not  if  they  are  as  provoking  as  the  unmarried," 
I  murmured  below  my  breath ;  but  he  seemed  to 
catch  my  meaning. 

"  They  understand  the  art  of  pleasing  your  sex 
amazingly.  I  believe  you  would  find  them  more 
fascinating  than  Mrs.  Blake,  or  your  new  friend, 
the  widow  Larkum." 

I  felt  too  sorrowful  to  reply,  and  my  temper  had 
quite  expended  itself.  I  waited  until  he  arose 
from  the  table  and  then  followed  liim  into  the 
library.  He  looked  surprised,  but  very  politely 
handed  me  a  chair.  1  bowed  my  thanks,  but  did 
not  sit  down ;  I  stood  opposite  him  with  only  the 
study  table  between  us.  I  was  nervous,  and  half 
afraid  to  ask  my  question,  but  summoning  all  my 


I 


OBK. 

:e  a  revolution 

lity." 

tort  which  fell 

hand  for  your 
idual ;  though 
red  ia  not  very 

[IS  for  a  garden- 
ssperately.  "  I 
rmit  you  to  go 
your  toilet." 
she  might  get 
it  trip." 
he  unmarried," 
it  he  seemed  to 

jasing  your  sex 
find  them  more 
ur  new  friend, 

my  temper  had 
until  he  arose 
I  him  into  the 
t  very  politely 
thanks,  but  did 
I  with  only  the 
3rvous,  and  half 
imoning  all  my 


Alf  EVENING  WALK.  90 

courage  I  broke  the  silence  by  saying: — "Mr. 
Winthrop,  will  voii  please  tell  nie  if  I  am  rich  or 
poor  ?  " 

"  That  is  a  comparative  question,"  he  answered 
with  provoking  coolness.  "Compared  with  Jay 
Gould  or  Vanderbilt,  I  should  say  your  means 
were  limited  ;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  to  measure 
your  riches  with  your  widowed  friends,  most  per- 
sons would  allow  your  circumstances  to  be 
affluent." 

"  But  have  I  any  money  left  after  my  board  and 
other  expenses  are  paid  ?  " 

He  smiled  sarcastically.  "  I  do  not  take  boarders ; 
it  has  never  been  our  custom  at  Oaklands." 

I  was  getting  angry  and  retorted : — "  I  shall  not 
eat  any  man's  bread  without  paying  for  it,  if  he 
were  a  hundred  times  my  guardian." 

"  But  if  you  had  no  money  wherewith  to  pay 
him  ;  what  then  ?  " 

"I  have  an  education;  with  that  surely  I  can 
earn  my  living  as  well  as  Esmerelda.  My  knowl- 
edge of  French  and  German  will  help  me  to  a 
situation,  if  nothing  else." 

"  If  I  say  you  must  not  leave  here ;  that  I  will 
not  permit  my  ward  to  work  for  her  living  ?  "  he 
questioned. 

"  If  I  resolve  to  be  independent,  and  earn  some- 
thing beside,  to  lielp  the  poor,  can  you  compel  me 
to  a  life  of  ease  and  usclessness  ?  "       . 


i 
',1 


^  'M- 


:^^:    \ 


9g^  MEDOLINJC  SELWTN'S  WOBK. 

"  Ah,  I  see  what  is  troubling  you— the  widows 
are  on  your  mind.  A  gracious  desire  to  help  them 
has  caused  this  mercenary  fit.  T  am  glad  to  inform 
you  that  there  is  a  snug  sum  lying  at  your  bankers 
in  your  name.  When  you  come  of  age  you  wiU 
know  the  exact  amount." 

"You  will  pay  for  ray  board  and  expenses  out 
of  it,"  I  said,  rather  incoherently;  "and  then,  if 
there  is  any  left,  may  I  .have  it  to  lay  out  as  I 

choose  ? "  A,      r      1,  4.  1 

"I  do  not  care  to  assume  the  role  of  a  hotel- 
keeper,  so  we  will  compromise  matters.  You  can 
name  whatever  sum  you  choose  for  your  board,  and 
I  will  give  it  to  you  in  quarterly  instalments  for 
your  pensioners." 

I  was  silent  for  a  few  moments,  perplexed  to 
know  what  answer  to  give.  If  he  were  to  take 
from  my  own  income  the  sum  I  might  mention  if  1 
accepted  his  terms,  would  I  not  still  be  a  debtor  to 
liis  hospitality?  I  spoke  at  last,  knowing  that  his 
eyes  were  reading  my  face.  "  Could  I  not  first 
pay  you  all  that  I  really  cost  you,  and  then  if  there 
was  any  money  left,  have  that  to  expend  just  as  I 

choose  ?  " 

« I  have  hitherto  allowed  you  a  certain  sum  for 
■  pocket  money.     I  limited  the  supply,  because,  as  a 
school-girl,  I  believed  too  much  would  be  an  in- 
jury.    Since,  however,  you  are  now  a  young  lady 
grown  and  gifted  with  highly  benevolent  instinct -s 


— the  widows 
B  to  help  them 
glad  to  inform 
t  yonr  bankera 

I  age  you  will 

d  expenses  out 

"  atid  then,  if 

0  lay  out  as  I 

81e  of  a  hotel- 
ters.  You  can 
your  board,  and 
instalments  for 

8,  perplexed  to 
e  were  to  take 
Tht  mention  if  I 

II  be  a  debtor  to 
iiowing  that  his 
ould  I  not  first 
,nd  then  if  there 
ixpend  just  as  I 

certain  sum  for 
ly,  because,  as  a 
would  be  an  in- 
w  a  young  lady 
svolent  instinct  K, 


AN  EVENING  WALK. 


«f 


I  will  increase  your  spending  money  to  any  rea- 
sonable sum  you  may  name." 

"  Will  it  be  my  own  money  ?  " 

"  Certainly ;  I  shall  not  exercise  the  slightest 
supervision  over  the  way  you  spend  it,  so  long  as 
your  Mill  Road  friends  do  not  get  quarreling  over 
the  division  of  it." 

"  You  do  not  understand  my  meaning.  Will  it 
be  the  money  my  father  left  me  ?  " 

"I  cannot  promise  it  will  be  just  the  same.  No 
doubt  that  has  passed  through  scores  of  hands  since 
then ;  in  fact,  it  may  be  lying  in  the  bottom  of  the 
sea.  I  did  not  expect  you  would  be  so  exact  in 
money  matters,  or  I  might  have  been  more  care- 
ful." 

"Mr.  Winthrop,  why  do  you  so  persistently 
misconstrue  my  meaning?"  1  said,  desperately. 
He  looked  down  more  gently  from  his  superior 
height  into  my  troubled  face,  and  the  mocking 
gleam  faded  from  liis  eyes, 

"  Why  are  you  so  scrupulously,  ridiculously 
insistent  in  maintaining  such  perfect  independ- 
ence? Can  j-ou  not  believe  I  get  well  paid  for  all 
you  cost  me,  if  we  descend  to  the  vulgarity  of  dol- 
lars and  cents,  in  having  a  bright,  original  young 
creature  about  the  house  with  a  fiery,  independent, 
nature,  ready  to  fight  with  her  rich  friends  for  the 
sake  of  her  poor  ones  ?  " 

"  I  wish  we  could  be  friendly,  Mr.  Winthrop,"  I 
7 


[■': 


;«f!^ 


',  J 


dS 


medOlinb  sELWry's  work. 


fll 


half  sobbed,  with  an  impulsive  gesture  stretching 
out  my  hands,  but  remembering  myself ,  as  quickly 
I  drew  them  back,  and  without  waiting  for  a  reply 
fled  from  the  room.     Once  in  the  hall  I  took  down 
my  hat  from  the  rack  and  slipped  out  into  the 
night,  my   pulses  throbbing  feverishly,  and  with 
difficulty  repressing  the  longing  to  find  relief  in  a 
burst  of  tears.    The  short  twilight  had  quite  faded 
away  into  starlight,  but  the  autumn  air  was  still 
warm  enough  to  permit  a  stroll  after  nightfall. 
When  I  grew  calm  enough  to  notice  whither  my 
feet  had  strayed,  I  found  myself  on  the  Mill  Road. 
Instinctively  I  felt  I  should  not  go  so  far  from  home 
in  the  darkness  unattended ;  but  I  was  naturally 
courageous  as  well  as  unconventional,  and  the  de- 
sire was  strong  on  me  to  tell  Mrs.  Blake  my  good 
news.    I  got  on  safely  until  Daniel  Blake's  light 
was  in  sight,  when,  just  before  me,  I  heard  rough 
voices  talking  and  laughing.    I  turned  and  was 
about  fleeing  for  home,  when  a  similar  crowd 
seemed  to  have  sprung  up,  as  if  by  magic,  just  be- 
hind me.     In  my  terror  I  attempted  to  climb  a 
fence,  but  fence-climbing  was  a  new  accomplish- 
ment, and  in  my  ignorance  and  fright,  I  dragged 
myself  to  the  top  rail  and  then  fell  over  in  a  nerve- 
less heap  on  the  other  side.     The  crowd  were  too 
self-absorbed  to  notice  the  crouching  figure  divided 
from  them  by  a  slight  rail  fence,  and  went  shout- 
ing on  their  way  until  stopped  by  the  other  crowd. 


;ure  stretching 
self,  as  quickly 
iug  for  a  reply 
ill  I  took  down 
1  out  into  the 
ihly,  and  with 
find  relief  in  a 
had  quite  faded 
m  air  was  still 
after  nightfall, 
ice  whither  my 

the  Mill  Road. 
3  far  from  home 
!  was  naturally 
nal,  and  the  de- 
Blake  my  good 
b1  Blake's  light 
),  I  heard  rough 
timed  and  was 

similar  crowd 
T  magic,  just  be- 
sted to  climb  a 
lew  accomplish- 
right,  I  dragged 
over  in  a  nerve- 
crowd  were  too 
ig  figure  divided 
uid  went  shout- 
the  other  crowd. 


AN  EVENING  WALK. 


99 


I  waited  until  they  had  got  to  a  safe  distance, 
when  I  arose  and  sped  swiftly  along  over  the  damp 
grass  until  another  fence  intercepted  my  progress ; 
when  fortunately  I  remembered  that  just  beyond 
this  fence  was  a  low  marshy  field,  with  deep  pools 
of  water.  By  some  means  I  again  got  over  the 
fence,  bruising  my  fingers  in  the  effort.  The 
voices  were  growing  fainter  in  the  distance,  and 
now  with  calmer  pulses,  I  proceeded  on  ray  way  to 
the  Blakes'.  But  a  new  alarm  awaited  me ;  for  I 
recollected  Daniel  would  be  at  home  now,  and 
Tiger,  his  constant  companion,  would  be  some- 
where in  his  vicinity.  The  dog  was  a  huge  crea- 
ture, capable  of  tearing  me  to  pieces  in  a  very  short 
time  if  he  was  so  inclined.  Folding  my  arms 
tightly  in  the  skirt  of  my  dress,  I  presently  heard 
Tiger  approaching,  giving  an  occasional  savage 
growl.  I  called  him  to  rae  with  as  much  simulated 
affection  in  the  tones  of  my  voice  as  I  could  com- 
mand, and  walked  straight  for  the  kiichen  door.  I 
put  my  hand  on  the  latch,  not  daring  to  hesitate 
long  enough  to  knock,  when  he  caught  my  sleeve 
in  his  teeth.  Half  beside  myself  with  terror,  I 
called  to  Mis.  Blake,  and  in  a  second  or  two  the 
door  opened  and  Daniel  was  'peering  out  curiously 
into  my  white  face.  The  light  from  the  lamp  in 
his  hand  shone  full  on  the  dog  holding  my  sleeve 
in  his  white,  long  teeth.  Daniel's  slow  brain  scarce 
took  in  the  situation,  but  his  mother,  who  sat  where 


100  MEDOLINE  SELWTN'S  WORK. 

she  could  look  directly  at  us,  caught  up  the  tongs 
and  gave  Tiger  a  blow  he  probably  remembered  to 
his  dying  day.  He  dropped  my  dress  and  slunk 
silently  away  into  the  darkness.  Instantly  I  felt 
sorry  for  him.  "Won't  you  call  him  back,"  I 
cried.  "  He  thought  he  was  doing  his  duty,  and 
he  took  care  not  to  put  his  teeth  in  my  arm." 

"  It  seems  to  me  your  heart,  is  a  leetle  too  tender 
of  the  brute  ;  he  might  have  skeered  you  to  death," 
Daniel  said,  as  he  went  out  after  his  dog  to  se«  how 
heavy  damage  tlie  tongs  had  inflicted. 

"  I  should  not  have  come  here  so  late  ;  it  was  I 
and  not  the  dog  who  was  to  blame,"  I  gasped,  as  I 
sank  into  Mrs.  Blake's  rocking-chair. 

"I've  wanted  Daniel  to  put  the  critter  away; 
he's  been  offered  fifty  dollars  for  him;  but  he's 
kind  of  lonesome,  and  refuses  the  offer." 

Mrs.  Blake  was  looking  at  me  closely.  I  knew 
she  was  curious  to  know  what  brought  me  there  at 
that  unusual  hour,  so  I  hastened  to  explain,  and 
asking  her  would  she  go  with  me  to  the  Widow 
Larkum's  while  I  told  her  of  the  help  I  expected 
to  afford,  and  also  of  my  mishaps  on  the  way 

"Not  to-night,  dearie.  These  roads  ain't  none 
too  safe  after  night  for  women  folks.  It's  a  mercy 
you  tumbled  over  the  fence.  Myl  what  would 
Mr.  Winthrop  say  if  he  knowed?  "  she  questioned 
solemnly. 


o 


".iiJL:   ' 


RK. 

up  the  tongs 
emembered  to 
ess  and  slunk 
nstantly  I  felt 
him  back,"   I 

his  duty,  and 
ny  arm." 
etle  too  tender 
you  to  death, 
dog  to  see  how 
d. 

late  ;  it  was  I 
'  I  gasped,  as  I 
r. 

critter  away; 
him;  but  he's 
ler." 

osely.  I  knew 
ght  me  there  at 
to  explain,  and 
to  the  Widow 
elp  I  expected 
ps  on  the  way 

oads  ain't  none 
J.  It's  a  mercy 
yl  what  would 
'  she  questioned 


ATf  EVENING  WALK. 


101 


"  But  he  will  never  know,  if  I  can  get  back 
safely." 

"  Dan'el  and  me '11  go  with  you,  and  take  Tiger 
and  the  lantern.  They're  all  afraid  of  the  dog,  if 
I  haven't  lamed  him." 

She  went  to  the  door  and  called  Daniel.  He 
came  in  presently,  with  Tiger  limping  after  him. 

"  You  give  him  an  unmerciful  blow ;  a  leetle 
more  and  he'd  never  barked  again." 

"  Bring  him  in  and  I'll  give  him  a  bone  and  rub 
the  sore  place  with  liniment." 

"  Let  me  feed  him,"  I  begged.  "  I  want  to  make 
friends  with  him." 

"  You'd  best  not  put  your  hands  on  him.  He 
don't  make  free  with  strangers." 

I  took  the  bone ;  to  my  regret  it  was  picked 
nearly  bare,  and  I  inly  resolved  Tiger  should  have 
a  good  solid  dinner  the  next  day,  if  he  and  I  anr- 
vived  the  mishaps  of  the  night. 

"  Poor  fellow !  I  am  very,  very  sorry  I  have 
caused  you'  so  much  pain,"  I  said,  giving  him  the 
bone  and  patting  his  huge  head  fearlessly. 

"  Look  out !  "  Daniel  said,  warningly. 

"You  needn't  be  afeard,"  his  mother  said. 
"  Tiger  knows  quality." 

Whether  he  was  as  knowing  in  this  respect  as  she 
asserted,  he  gnawed  his  bone  and  let  me  stroke  his 
shaggy  coat,  wlule  Mrs.  Blake  bathed  his  bruised 
bftckf 


102 


MEDOLINE  SEUVYN'ti  WORK. 


1 


«  Theio,  he'll  be  all  right  now  in  no  time  ;  and 
Dan'cl,  you  get  the  lantern  and  we'll  go  buck  to 
Oaklands  with  Miss  Selwyn." 

Daniel  got  up  wearily,  and  did  as  his  mother 
bade.  After  his  hard  day's  work  in  the  mill  he 
would  williitgly,  no  doubt,  have  been  excused 
escorting  damsels  in  distress  to  their  homes. 

Mrs.  Blake  soon  came  out  of  her  room  with  her 
bonnet  and  shawl  on— the  former  one  without  si 
veil,  which  she  excused  on  the  ground  that  dew 
took  the  stiffening  out  of  crape—"  Leastways,"  she 
added,  "the  kind  I  wear."     Tiger  followed  us, 
and  more  in  mercy  to  him  than  the  tired  Daniel,  I 
insisted  on  going  home  alone  once  we  had  got  be- 
yond the  precincts  of  the  Mill  Road.     I  met  with 
no  further  adventure,  and  reached  my  own  room 
in  safety,  fondly  hoping  no  one  in  the  house  was 
aware  of  my  evening  s  ramble,  and  one  that  I  de- 
termined should  never  be  repeated.    My  cheeks 
burned  even  after  my  light  wjvs  extinguished,  and 
my  head  throbbed  on  the  pillow  at  Mr.  Winthrop's 
biting  sarcasm  if  he  knew  the  risk  I  had  just  run 
from  bipeds  and  quadrupeds,  with  Daniel  Blake, 
his  mother  and  dog  as  body-guard  past  the  danger 
of  Mill  Road  ruflaanism. 


'mM 


\o  tiino ;  atul 
,  go  biick  to 

3  his  mother 
the  mill  ho 
»een  excused 
liomes. 

oom  with  her 
lie  without  51 
11(1  that  dew 
jastways,"  she 
followed  us, 
ired  Daniel,  I 
e  had  got  be- 
I  met  with 
ny  •  own  room 
he  house  was 
)ne  that  I  de- 
.    My  cheeks 
inguished,  and 
Ir.  Winthrop's 
had  just  run 
Daniel  Blake, 
lat  the  danger 


CHAPTER  X. 


A   HELPING   HAND. 


The  loUowing  morning  I  went  down  to  break* 
fast  with  some  trepidation,  and  feeling  very  much 
like  a  culprit.  Mrs.  Flaxman  came  into  the  room 
first,  and  in  her  mild,  incurious  fashion  said :  "  We 
were  hunting  for  you  last  evening.  Mr.  Winthrop 
wished  to  see  you  about  something." 

I  did  not  reply,  neither  did  she  inquire  where  I 
had  bestowed  myself  out  of  reach  of  their  voices. 
I  felt  certain  Mr.  Winthrop's  curiosity  would  be 
more  insistent,  and  was  quite  right  in  my  conject- 
ures. He  came  in  as  usual,  just  on  the  minute,  " 
and  seating  himself,  went  through  with  the  formal- 
ity of  grace  ;  but  before  our  plates  were  served,  he 
turned  to  me  and  rather  sternly  said :  "  Are  you 
in  the  habit  of  going  out  fojr  solitary  night 
rambles  ?  " 


* 


i 


i 


'If 


II 


104 


MEDOLINE  SELWYN'fi  WORK. 


"  I  never  did  but  once,"  I  faltered,  too  proudly 
honest  to  give  an  evasive  answer. 

"  That  once,  I  presume,  occurred  last  night  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

♦'  Strictly  speaking,  it  wanted  just  five  minutes 
to  nine  when  you  slipped  stealthily  into  the  side 
entrance." 
•'l^\  I  sat,  culprit-like,  in  silence,  while  his  ej'es  were 

watching  me  closely. 

"  Don't  you  think  two  hours  a  long  time  to  be 
loitering  about  the  garden  in  the  dark  ?  " 

«  You  must  not  be  too  hard  on  Medoline,"  Mrs. 
Flaxman  interposed.  "  It  is  an  instinct  with  young 
folk  to  stray  under  the  starlight  and  dream  their 
dreams.  No  doubt  we  both  have  been  guilty  of 
doing  it  in  our  time."  I  flashed  Mrs.  Flaxman  a 
look  of  gratitude,  and  wondered  at  the  nai've  way 
she  counted  Mr.  Winthrop  with  herself,  as  if  he 
too  had  arrived  at  staid  middle-agehood. 

"  Dreaming  under  stars  and  wandering  around 
in  attendance  on  widows  are  two  very  different 
occupations,"  he  said,  quietly,  and  without  a  break 
in  his  voice  asked  !Mrs.  Flaxman  what  he  should 
help  her  to.  I  swallowed  my  breakfast — what 
little  I  could  eat — ^with  the  feeling  that  possibly 
each  succeeding  mouthful  might  choke  me;  but 
full  hearts  do  not  usually  prove  fatal,  even  at  meal 
time. 

I  arose  from  the  table  as  soon  as  Mr.  Winthrop 


WORK. 

sred,  too  proudly 

id  last  night  ?  " 

just  five  minutes 
ily  into  the  side 

lile  his  ej'es  were 

long  time  to  be 
dark?" 

Medoline,"  Mrs. 
stinct  with  young 
and  dream  their 
e  been  guilty  of 
I  Mrs.  Flaxman  a 
it  the  naive  way 

herself,  as  if  he 
fehood. 

randering  around 
ro  very  different 
1  without  a  break 

what  he  should 

breakfast — what 
^ng  that  possibly 
t  choke  me;  but 
atal,  even  at  meal 

as  Mr.  Winthrop 


A  HELPING  HAND. 


105 


laid  down  his  napkin,  and  was  hastening  from 
the  room  when  1  heard  him  move  back  his  chair; 
and,  swift  as  were  my  movements,  he  was  in  the 
hall  before  I  had  reached  the  topmost  step  of  the 
staircase. 

"  Just  one  more  word,  please,"  I  heard  him  say. 
I  turned  around,  resolved  to  take  the  remainder  of 
my  lecture  from  a  position  where  I  could  look  down 
on  him.  He  held  out  a  parcel,  saying :  "  Will  you 
come  and  get  this,  or  shall  I  carry  it  to  you  ?  " 

I  descended  without  replying,  and  held  out  my 
hand  for  the  roll.  He  took  hold  of  my  hand  in- 
stead. The  firm, strong  grasp  comforted  me,  though 
I  expected  a  sevei-er  lecture  than  I  had  ever  re- 
ceived before  in  all  my  life.  I  looked  up  at  him 
through  tear-filled  eyes  wlien  he  said,  in  a  strangely 
gentle  voice  for  the  circumstances : 

"  I  saw  you  coming  along  the  Mill  Road  last 
night  with  the  Blakes  and  their  lantern.  Why 
were  you  there  so  late  ?  " 

"I  wanted  so  much  to  tell  the  widow  Larkum  I 
was  in  a  position  now  to  help  her." 

He  was  silent  for  awhile  ;  then  he  said : 

"  I  am  glad  you  did  not  try  to  mislead  me  at  the 
breakfast-table.  I  could  not  easily  have  forgiven 
such  an  act.  Next  to  purity,  I  admire  perfect  truth 
in  your  sex." 

"  Mr.  Winthrop,  you  will  believe  me  that  I  never 
went  out  of  our  own  grounds  after  night  before 


m 


-ft 


I 


m 

'Ml: 


f^ 


A 


106 


MEDOLINE  SELWYN'S  WORK. 


\  . 


rfiii 


'}  f:^i 


alone,  and  I  never  will,  if  I  live  for  a  hundred 
years." 

"  Pray  do  not  make  rash  promises.  I  only  claim 
obedience  to  my  wishes  until  you  are  of  age.  I 
will  accept  your  word  until  that  date,  and  shall  not 
go  in  search  of  you  along  the  Mill  Road,  or  any 
other  disreputable  portion  of  the  town  again. 
Your  mother's  daughter  can  be  trusted." 

I  tried  to  withdraw  my  hand,  in  order  to  escape 
with  my  tear-stained  face  to  my  own  room,  quite 
forgetting  the  parcel  I  had  come  down  the  stairway 
for. 

"  We  start  for  New  York  this  afternoon.  Mrs. 
Flaxman  accompanies  us.  She  will  be  congenial 
society  for  you,  having  been  a  widow  for  nearly  a 
score  of  years." 

"  I  do  not  care  particularly  for  widows.  It  is 
the  poor  and  desolate  I  pity." 

"  Well,  here  is  the  first  instalment  of  widows' 
money.  I  give  it  to  you  quarterly,  purely  from 
benevolent  motives." 

"  Why  so  ?  "  I  asked,  curiously. 

"  If  you  received  it  all  at  once  Mill  Road  would 
be  resplendent  with  crape  and  cheap  jewelry." 

"  I  suppose  I  must  thank  you,"  I  said,  hotly ; 
♦♦but  the  manner  of  the  giving  takes  away  all  the 
grace  of  the  gift." 

"  You  express  yourself  a  trifle  obscurely,  but  I 
think  I  comprehend  your  meaning,"  he  said,  with- 


for  a  hundred 

js.  I  only  claim 
I  are  of  age.  I 
ite,  and  shall  not 
ill  Road,  or  any 
he  town  again, 
isted." 

I  order  to  escape 
own  room,  quite 
3wn  the  stairway 

ifternoon.  Mrs. 
all  be  congenial 
dow  for  nearly  a 

r  widows.    It  is 

ment  of  widows' 
erly,  purely  from 


Mill  Road  would 
jap  jewelry." 
J,"  I  said,  hotly  ; 
ikes  away  all  the 

obscurely,  but  I 
J,"  he  said,  with- 


A  HELPING  HAND. 


107 


out  change  of  voice.  If  I  could  have  seen  his  eyes 
flash,  or  his  imperturbable  calm  disturbed,  my  own 
anger  would  have  been  less  keen. 

"  May  I  go  now?"  I  presently  asked,  quite  sub- 
dued ;  for  he  had  fallen  into  a  brown  study,  and 
was  still  holding  my  hand. 

"  Yes,  I  had  forgotten,"  he  said,  turning  away, 
and  a  moment  after  entered  the  library  and  shut 
the  door.  I  went  in  search  of  Mrs.  Flaxraan,  whom 
I  found  still  in  the  breakfast-room,  and  in  a  rather 
nervous  condition,  busy  about  the  china,  which  she 
rarely  permitted  the  servant  to  wash. 

"  Shall  we  stay  long  in  New  York ? "  I  asked, 
very  cheerfully,  the  fifty  dollars  I  held  in  ray  hand, 
and  the  easy  way  I  had  got  off  with  Mr.  Winthrop, 
making  me  quite  elated. 

"  One  can  never  tell.  Mr.  Winthrop  is  very  un- 
certain ;  we  may  return  in  a  day  or  two,  or  we  may 
stay  a  fortnight." 

"  You  are  not  anxious  to  go  ?  "  I  questioned,  see- 
ing her  troubled  face. 

"  Not  just  now,  in  the  height  of  the  pickling  and 
preserving  season.  Reynolds  has  excellent  judg- 
ment, but  I  prefer  looking  after  such  things  myself." 

She  looked  wistfully  at  me  while  she  dried  her 
china.  "  May  I  help  you,  Mrs.  Flaxman  ?  It  never 
occurred  to  me  before  that  I  might  share  your  bur- 
dens. I  should  learn  to  have  cares,  as  well  as 
others." 


I, 


!'> 


'i' 


m 


108  MEDOLINE  SELWTN'S  WORK. 

"I  always  like  to  have  you  with  me,  dear. 
Sometimes  I  try  to  make  myself  believe  God  has 
given  you  to  me,  instead  of  my  own  little  Medo- 

line." 

"  Had  you  a  daughter  once  ?  " 

«  Yes;  and,  like  yourself,  named  after  your  own 

dear  mother." 

"  Oh,  Mrs.  Flaxman,  and  you  never  told  me. 

Was  she  grown  up  like  me?" 

«  She  was  only  six  years  old  when  she  died,  just 
a  month  after  her  father ;  but  the  greater  grief 
benumbed  me  so  I  scarce  realized  my  second  loss 
until  months  afterward." 

"  Is  it  so  terrible,  then,  to  lose  one's  husband  ? 

« It  depends  greatly  on  the  husband." 

"  The  widow  Larkum  cries  constantly  after  hers, 
but  he  was  bread-winner,  too.    A  hungry  grief  must 

be  a  double  one." 

"  Did  Mr.  Winthrop  say  anything  further  to  you 

about  being  out  last  night?  " 

"A  little,"  I  replied,  with  scarlet  cheeks ;  "but 
he  will  never  do  so  again.  I  shall  not  give  him 
cause  to  reprove  me." 

"  That  is  the  most  lady-like  course.  You  are  no 
longer  a  little  girl,  or  a  school-girl  either." 

I  wiped  my  plates  in  silence,  but  my  mortifica- 
tion was  none  the  less  intense.  I  realized  then, 
more  keenly  than  ever,  that  I  must  preserve  the 
proprieties,  and  confine  myself  to  the  restrictions 


VORK. 

with  me,  dear, 
believe  God  has 
iwn  little  Medo- 


d  after  your  own 

never  told  me. 

ien  she  died,  just 
the  greater  grief 
L  my  second  loss 

one's  husband  ?  " 
iband." 

stantly  after  hers, 
liungry  grief  must 

ing  further  to  you 

•let  cheeks  ;  "  but 
lall  not  give  him 

irse.  You  are  no 
rl  either." 
but  my  mortifica- 
I  realized  then, 
aust  preserve  the 
to  the  restrictions 


A  HELPING  HAND. 


109 


of  polite  society.  The  breezy,  unconventional 
freedom  Mrs.  Flaxman  had  for  those  few  months 
permitted  me  had  been  so  keenly  enjoyed.  I 
fretted  uneasily  at  the  forms,  and  ceremonies  of 
artificial  life,  while  the  aboriginal  instincts,  which 
every  free  heart  hides  away  somewhere  in  its 
depths,  had  been  permitted  too  full  development. 

The  china  cleansed,  and  put  away,  I  stood  sur- 
veying the  shining  pieces  that  comprised  our  break- 
fast equipage,  and  like  the  tired  clock  in  the  fable, 
thought  wearily  of  the  many  hundred  times  Mrs. 
Flaxman  had  washed  those  dishes ;  of  the  many 
thousand  times  they,  or  others,  would  go  through 
the  same  operation,  until  Mrs.  Winthrop's  sands  of 
time  had  all  run  out,  and  Oaklands  goijg  to  decay, 
or  passed  into  other  hands.  ^" 

"  Isn't  it  tiresome  work  washing  dishes — the 
same  yesterday,  to-day  and  fifty  years  hence  ?  I 
wish  I  had  been  created  a  man ;  they  don't  have 
such  sameness  in  their  work." 

"Are  you  sure,  dear?  Fancy  a  bookkeeper's 
lot,  or  a  clerk's  reckoning  up  columns  of  figures  so 
like  there  is  not  a  particle  of  variety  ;  not  a  new 
or  thrilling  idea  in  all  their  round  of  work  from 
January  to  December,  unless  we  except  a  column 
that  won't  come  right.  That  may  have  a  thrill  in 
it  now  and  then,  but  certainly  not  a  joyous  one. 
After  we  return  from  New  York,  if  you  pay  at- 
tention to  a  clerk's  work  in  the  stores  we  visit, 


110 


MEBOLltfE  SELWVN'a  WOHK. 


Mi 


1  j 


you  will  acknowledge  a  lady's  household  tasks  de- 
lightful in  comparison.  The  fanner's  life  has  the 
most  variety,  ani\  comes  nearest  to  elementary 
things  and  nature's  great  throbbing  vitals  ;  but  as 
a  rule  they  are  a  dissatisfied  lot,  and  unreasonably 
so,  I  think." 

"  Come  to  look  at  things  generally,  it's  a  very 
unsatisfactory  sort  of  world,  anyway.  I  think  it's 
alFaira  might  just  as  well  get  wound  up  as  not. 
There  have  been  plenty  of  one  variety  of  beings 
created,  I  should  think,  to  fill  up  lots  of  room  in 
the  starry  spaces,  and  there  are  so  many  to  suffer 
forever." 

"  It  is  hardly  reverent,  dear,  for  us  to  criticise 
God's  plans.  It  is  His  world,  and  we  are  His 
creatures  ;  and  we  may  all  be  happy  in  Him  here, 
and  there  be  happy  with  Him  forever.  Besides, 
life  does  not  seem  monotonous  when  we  are  doing 
His  will." 

"  But  I  know  80  few  who  are  doing  His  will 
save  you,  and  that  poor  blind  Mr.  Bowen.  I  read 
my  Bible  every  day,  and  sometimes  I  get  thinking 
over  its  words,  and  I  reckon  there  will  only  be  one 
here  and  there  fit  to  enter  Heaven.  All  our  friends 
nearly  would  be  teiTibly  out  of  place  to  be  sud- 
denly transplanted  to  the  Heavenly  gardens.  What 
could  they  talk  about  to  the  shining  ones?  The 
fashions,  and  social  gossips,  and  fancy  work  and 
amusements  would  all  be  tabooed  subjects  there,  I 
expect." 


WORK. 


A  HELPING  lIANt>, 


111 


usehokl  tasks  de- 
nei's  life  has  the 
5t  to  elementary 
ng  vitals  ;  but  as 
uicl  unreasonably 

jrally,  it's  a  very 
vay.  I  think  it's 
ound  up  as  not. 
variety  of  beings 
p  lots  of  room  in 
so  many  to  suffer 

or  us  to  criticise 
and  we  are  His 
ppy  in  Him  here, 
forever.  Besides, 
rhen  we  are  doing 

re  doing  His  will 
r.  Bowen.  I  read 
nes  I  get  thinking 
re  will  only  be  one 
I.  All  our  friends 
f  place  to  be  sud- 
\]y  gardens.  What 
ining  ones?  The 
I  fancy  work  and 
d  subjects  there,  I 


"  You  do  not  know  many  people  yet.  I  thank 
God  there  are  thousands  longing  to  serve  Him.  I 
think,  dear,  you  must  have  a  touch  of  dyspepsia 
this  morning;  your  thoughts  are  so  morbid." 

"  Oh  no,  indeed ;  I  am  quite  well.  But  shall  we 
see  any  of  those  people  you  describe  in  New  York?" 

"  If  we  stay  long  enough,  doubtless  we  shall.  I 
have  a  few  rare  friends  there  whose  friendship 
often  gives  me  the  feeling  of  possessing  unlimited 
riches." 

"  I  wish  I  had  such  friends,"  I  exclaimed,  with 
sadden  longing.  "  You  and  the  Mill  Road  folk  are 
the  only  ones  I  have  on  this  side  the  ocean,  and 
the  most  I  care  much  for  on  the  other  already 
think  in  another  language  from  mine." 

"  Yours  will  not  be  a  friendless  life,  I  feel  certain. 
I  see  elements  in  your  impulsive  nature  that  must 
attract  those  who  love  the  true  and  unselfish." 

"  Oh,  Mrs.  Flaxman,  what  a  delicious  compli- 
ment to  give  pie,  just  when  I  was  most  discouraged 
about  myself !  Mr.  Winthrop  finds  me  such  a 
nuisance,  and  all  your  pretty  and  elegant  lady 
friends  I  know  care  so  little  for  me  that  I  can't 
but  believe  that  I  am  a  poor  specimen,  although  you 
speak  so  kindly." 

"  You  will  be  wise  to  learn  the  art  of  not  think- 
ing much  about  your  merits.  I  find  these  the  hap- 
piest lives  who  live  most  outside  of  self ;  and  they 
are  the  most  helpful  to  others." 


I 
] 

; 

Ml 


it 


112 


MEDOLINE  SELWTira  WORK. 


n 


w. 


m 


'  Vi.% 


\i'' 


"  But  we  have  mainly  to  do  with  ourselves. 
How  can  we  help  wondering  if  our  particular 
barque  on  the  voyage  of  life  is  to  be  a  success  or 
not?" 

•'  It  lies  with  ourselves  whether  it  is  or  no." 
"  But  persons  like  Mrs.  Larkum  and  the  Blakes, 
how  can  they  have  a  successful  voyage,  when  they 
are  so  poor  and  lowly  ?  " 

"  You  must  get  the  thought  out  of  your  mind 
that  being  poor  and  humble  makes  any  difference 
in  God's  sight.  When  Christ  visited  our  planet 
his  position  was  as  lowly  as  the  Blakes ;  his  purse 
as  empty  as  the  widow  Larkum's.  We  are  such 
slow  creatures  to  learn  that  character  itself  is  the 
only  greatness  in  God's  sight.  Our  ancestry  and 
rent  roll  are  the  small  dust  of  the  balance  with 
Him." 

"  But  Mr.  Winthrop  thinks  most  of  those  things 
— the  ancestry  and  wealth." 

"  We  must  not  sit  in  judgment  on  any  one's 
thoughts,  and  we  must  not  tivke  any  man's  gauge 
of  character  in  the  abstract  as  the  correct  one; 
only  take  the  word  of  God." 

I  went  out  into  the  sunshine  to  think  over  Mrs. 
Flaxman's  little  lecture ;  a  good  deal  comforted  with 
the  reflection  that  Mrs.  Blake  might  have  more 
weight  in  the  balances  of  Heaven  than  I  had 
thought.  The  garden  was  looking  very  shabby- 
its  splendid  midsummer  glory  had  only  a  few 


'ORK. 

with  ourselves. 

our  particular 

be  a  success  or 

it  is  or  no." 
I  and  the  Blakes, 
yage,  when  they 

it  of  your  mind 
s  any  difference 
sited  our  planet 
lakes;  his  purse 
.  We  are  such 
cter  itself  is  the 
ur  ancestry  and 
the  balance  with 

st  of  those  things 

mt  on  any  one's 
any  man's  gauge 
the  correct  one; 

)  think  over  Mrs. 
al  comforted  with 
night  have  more 
ven  than  I  had 
)g  very  shabby- 
had  only  a  few 


A  UELPINO  HAND. 


113 


flowers  left  to  show  wliat  had  been  there,  and  tlieso 
only  the  tliick-petaled,  substantial  blosson-s  ns  free 
from  perfume  as  the  products  of  the  vegeuiblo  gar- 
den.  I  grew  melancholy.  A  premonition  of  my 
own  sure  coming  autumn  season,  towards  the  end 
of  life,  was  forecasting  its  cold  shadow  over  the 
intervening  years  which  made  the  November  sun- 
shine grow  dim  ;  and  I  gladly  re-entered  the  house. 
I  went  very  meekly  to  the  library-door  and  tapped. 
Quite  a  long  pause,  and  then  I  heard  my  guardian's 
study  door  which  opened  into  the  library,  shut ; 
and  a  second  after  he  stood  before  me.  I  thought 
he  gave  me  a  surprised  glance,  since  it  was  only  the 
second  time  I  had  come  into  his  presence  there  un- 
summoned. 

"  May  I  take  some  of  the  money  you  gave  me 
this  morning  to  Mrs.  Larkum,  before  I  leave  for 
New  York  ?  " 

"  If  you  have  time.  Usually  it  takes  ladies  some 
hours  to  prepare  for  a  journey  such  as  you  have 
before  you  to-day."  r . 

''  I  am  sorry  to  say  I  am  not  a  regulation  lady. 
I  can  get  ready  in  half  an  hour." 

"  That  is  a  quality  in  your  sex  that  will  cover  a 
multitude  of  sins." 

"  I  am  glad  you  have  at  last  found  something 
good  in  me,"  I  said,  sorrowfully. 

"  Yoii  must  not  personally  apply  every  generalizar 
tjon  your  frie«ds  piay  make  in  their  conversation," 


m 


iiiji 


114 


MEDOLINE  SELWyJTS  WORK. 


*'  Then  you  give  me  peimissioii  to  go ? " 
"  It  strikes  me  you  are  rushing  to  the  other  ex- 
treme. I  have  never  interfered  with  your  rambles, 
except  at  unseemly  houi-s.  Mill  Road  at  mid-day 
id  quite  safe  for  the  most  unconventional  young 
lady  in  Cavendish." 

I  bowed  my  thanks,  and  turning  away  heard  the 
Mbrary  door  shut.     I  could  fancy  the  expression 
on  my  guardian's  face  as  he  returned  to  his  books. 
But,  as  I  put  on  my  wraps,  my  heart  grew  lighter 
although  Mr.  Winthrop's  last  observation  made  me 
wince.    I  took  a  crisp  ten  dollar  bill.     Surely,  I 
reflected,  that  could  not  be  a  dangerous  sum  to  en- 
trust the  widow  with,  considering  that    she  had  a 
helpless  father,  and  half-clad  children  to  look  after. 
I  took  the  kitchen  on  my  way  and  begged  a  gener- 
out  slice  of  meat  from  the  cook  to  carry  to  Tiger. 
"  Most  like  they'll  have  their  own  dinner  off  it 
first;  they'll  think  it  a  sin  to  give  such  meat  to  a 
dog,"  I  heard  her  mutter  as  I  left  the  kitchen.    On 
my  way  I  met  Emily  Fleming  and  Belle  Wallace. 
They  laughingly  inquired  where  I  was  going  with 
my  bundles ;  but  I  assured  them  it  was  an  errand 
of  mercy,  and  could  not  therefore  be  explained. 
Miss  Emily's  plump  features  and  bright  black  eyes 
took  a  slightly  contemptuous  expression  as  she 
assured  us  I  was  rapidly  developing  into  a  Sister 
of  Charity. 

"  Better  be  that  than  an  idler  altogether  like  the 


/ORK. 

Logo?" 

to  the  other  ex- 
h  your  rambles, 
ioad  at  mid-day 
ventional  young 

away  heard  the 
r  the  expression 
icd  to  his  books, 
irt  grew  lighter 
rvation  made  me 

bill.  Surely,  I 
;erou8  sura  to  en- 

that  she  had  a 
ren  to  look  after. 

begged  a  gener- 
•  carry  to  Tiger, 
iwn  dinner  off  it 
e  such  meat  to  a 
the  kitchen.  On 
1  Belle  Wallace. 
I  was  going  with 
it  was  an  errand 
)re  be  explained, 
bright  black  eyea 
xpression  as  she 
ping  into  a  Sister 

iltogether  like  the 


.1  HELPING  HAND. 


116 


restof  us,"  the  nioi'o  gentle  iiiitured  Belle  responded. 

"If  you  arc  getting  into  a  controveray  I  will 
continue  my  journey,"  I  said,  nodding  them  a 
pleasant  good  morning  and  going  cheerfully  on  my 
way,  thinking  of  Tiger's  prospective  gratification, 
coupled  Willi  tliat  of  the  widow  Larkums. 

Going  first  to  the  Blakes,  I  found  Tiger  stretched 
out  on  the  doorstep.  He  wagged  liis  tail  appre- 
ciatively, but  did  not  growl  as  I  stroked  his  shaggy 
coat. 

Examining  him  by  daylight,  I  saw  that  he  was 
a  fine  specimen  of  his  species.  Daniel  explained 
to  me  afterward  that  he  was  a  cross  between  a 
St.  Bernard  and  Newfoundland— a  royal  ancestry, 
truly,  for  any  canine,  and  unlike  human  off-shoots 
from  the  best  genealogical  trees, ^yite  sure  of  in-  " 
heriting  the  finest  qualities  of  his  ancestors.  I 
went  into  the  house,  the  dog  limping  after  me. 
Mrs.  Blake  heard  my  voice  and  came  in  in  some 
alarm.  She  looked  surprised  to  see  me  sitting  by 
the  table  with  Tiger's  massive  head  in  mj  lap, 
while  I  unrolled  tlio  meat.  She  also  stood  watch- 
ing, and  when  the  juicy  steak  was  revealed,  her 
own  eyes  brightened  as  well  as  Tiger's.  "  I  haven't 
seen  such  a  piece  of  meat  in  many  a  day.  It  minds 
me  so  of  Oaklands." 

"I  got  it  from  cook  for  Tiger,"  I  explained. 
"  It  is  clean— perhaps  you  would  like  a  few  slices 
off  it." 


m 


110  MEDOLINE  SELWYN'a  WOUK. 

"I  would,  indeed.    Ite  ft  shame  to  give  a  brute 

such  victuuls." 

"Poor  Tiger,  he  deserves  something  rikkI,  alter 
the  way  he  was  punished  on  my  account."  Sho 
brought  a  knife  and  plate  saying:  "  We  can  share 
MTi'  each  other;  I  don't  want  to  rob  even  a  d..-  of 
his  rigiits  "  I  turned  the  meat  over  and  found  a 
bone  which  I  cutoff  and  gave  him,  and  then,  giving 
the  i-eraainder  to  her  to  put  out  of  Tiger's  way,  1 
stipulated  that  he  was  to  have  all  the  scraps  that 

were  left.    Then  I  informed  her  of  my  gift  fronj 

Mr.  Winthrop,  or  rather  loan,  and  of  the  sum  1 

purposed  giving  Mrs.  Larkum. 

"Did  Mr.  Winthrop  give  you  all  that  money  for 

poor  folks?"  she  asked  incredulously. 

"Yes." 

"Well,  I've  heard  he  never  give  anything  ex- 
cept through  the  town  council.  I've  heard  he  was 
uncommon  free  in  that  way.  But,  laws  I  reck- 
oned the  first  time  I  seen  you  that  you  d  be  able 
afore  long  to  wind  him  around  your  finger.  l<ino 
mannei-8  and  a  handsome  face,  with  a  good  heart, 
soon  thaws  out  a  bachelor  heart." 

"You  were  never  more  mistaken  m  your  iite, 

Mrs.  Blake."  .  .       , 

"May  be  so,'.'  she  said,  as  if  quite  unconvinced. 
I  turned  the  conversation  rather  abruptly  :— • 
"  Will  ten  dollars  be  too  much  to  entrust  Mrs. 

Larkum  with  at  once  ?  " 


m, 


JliK. 

;o  give  a  brute 

ing  good,  attur 
iccouut."  Slio 
•'  Wo  can  rtluiie 
[}  even  a  dog  of 
er  and  found  a 
,nd  then,  giving 
Tiger's  way,  I 
the  scraps  tliat 
)f  my  gift  from 
.  of  the  sum  I 

that  money  for 
sly. 

re  anything  ex- 
ve  heard  ho  was 
t,  lawsl  I  reck- 
vt  you'd  bo  able 
lur  finger.  Fine 
th  a  good  heart, 

ten  in  your  life, 

lite  unconvinced, 
r  abruptly  :— 
I  to  entrust  Mrs. 


A  HELPING  HAND. 


IIT 


"  Dear  heart,  you  might  give  her  fifty,  if  you  had 
it.  She'd  bo  jest  as  saving  of  it  as — v^ell  as  I'd  be 
myself,  and  I  call  myself  next  door  to  stingy." 

"  I  am  so  glad  ;  one  likes  to  know  the  most  will 
be  made  of  what  they  give." 

"  If  you  don't  mind,  I'll  put  on  my  shawl  and 
go  with  you." 

"  I  was  going  to  ask  you  to  do  so." 

"I'll  jest  set  on  the  pot  for  Dan'el's  dinner  first. 
Twelve  o'clock  soon  comes  these  short  days."  Mrs. 
Blake  threw  a  faded  woolen  shawl  over  her  head, 
and  taking  a  short  path  across  the  field  we  started 
for  Mrs.  Larkum's,  Tiger  limping  after  us. 

I  thought  Mrs.  Blake's  snug  kitchen  quite  a  nest 
of  comfort  after  I  had  taken  a  survey  of  the 
Larkum's  abode. 

One  roughly  plastered  room  with  two  little 
closets  at  one  side  for  bedrooms  had  to  serve  for 
home  for  five  souls. 

I  felt  a  curious,  smothered  sensation  at  first,  as 
I  looked  on  the  desolate  surroundings — the  pale, 
sad-faced  mother,  the  blind  grandfather,  and  ragged 
children.  A  dull  fire  was  smouldering  in  the  cook- 
ing stove,  and  beside  it  sat  the  grandfather,  the 
baby  on  his  knee,  vainly  tr ''ng  to  extract  consola- 
tion from  its  own  puny  fist.  As  I  looked  at  him 
closely  I  saw  that  Mr.  Bowen  had  an  unusually  fine 
face — not  old  looking,  but  strangly  subdued,  and 
chastened.    I  fancied  from  his  countenance,  at  once 


»til  i 


\\m\ 


\      1 


I    i: 


118 


MEDOLINE  SELWrirS  WOBS. 


serene  and  noble,  that  he  had  beautiful  thoughts 
there  in  the  darkioss  and  poverty  of  his  surround- 
ings.    Mrs.  Lark  am  was  mending  a  child's  torn 
frock,  her  eyes  as  red  and  swollen  as  ever.     Her 
face  brightened,  however,  when  we  went  in.     Mrs. 
Blake  assured  me  afterward  it  would  be  better  than 
medicine  to  them  having  one  of  the  quality  sit  down 
in  their  house,     I  took  the  baby  from  its  grand- 
father, and  soon  the  little  one  was  cooing  content- 
edly in  my  arms,  getting  its  fingers  and  face  nicely 
smeared   with  the  candies  I  had   brought  it.    I 
divided  the  supply  with  the  two  other  little  ones— 
the  eldest  going  direct  to  his  grandfather,  and  divid- 
ing his  share  with  him.     I  noticed  that  the  gift 
was  thankfully  received,  but  placed  securely  in  his 
pocket ;  no  doubt  to  be  brought  out  a  little  later, 
and  divided  with  the  otlu         I  glanced  at  the 
blind  man's  clothing.     Clean  it  certainly  was ;  in 
this  respect  corresponding  with  everything  I  saw  in 
the  house  ;  but  oh,  so  sadly  darned,  and  thread- 
bare.    Still,  he  seemed  like  a  gentleman,  and  I 
fancied  he  shrank  painfully  within  himself  as  if 
one's  presence  made  him  ill  at  ease.     I  resolved  to 
say  very  little  to  him  on  this  first  visit,  but  later 
on  try  to  find  the  key  to  his  heart.     I  contented 
myself  with  the  use  of  ray  eyes,  and  playing  with 
the  baby,  leaving  the  two  widows  to  indulge  in  a 
few  sighs  and  tears  together.     My  own  tears  do  not 
come  very  readily,  and  it  makes  me  feel  cold  hearted 


■ 


3  WORB. 

beautiful  thoughts 
ty  of  his  surround- 
ling  a  child's  torn 
>llen  as  ever.     Her 
we  went  in.     Mrs. 
ould  be  better  than 
he  quality  sit  down 
by  from  its  grand- 
ras  cooing  content- 
jrs  and  face  nicely 
lad   brought  it.    I 
)  other  little  ones — 
iidfather,  and  divid- 
iced  that  the  gift 
aced  securely  in  his 
it  out  a  little  later, 
I  glanced  at  the 
c  certainly  was ;  in 
everything  I  saw  in 
iirned,  and  thread- 
i  gentleman,  and  I 
trithin  himself  as  if 
ease.    I  resolved  to 
irst  visit,  but  later 
heart.    I  contented 
i,  and  playing  with 
lows  to  indulge  in  a 
My  own  tears  do  not 
me  feel  cold  hearted 


A  HELPING  HAND. 


119 


to  sit  dry-eyed  while  other  eyes  are  wet.  As  I  sat 
quietly  absorbing  the  spirit  of  the  place,  my  eyes 
rested  on  a  shelf  containing  the  few  cheap  dishes 
that  served  their  daily  food.  Instantly  the  deso- 
late fancies  I  had  a  few  hours  before  indulged  came 
forcibly  to  mind.  I  thought  what  would  it  be  to 
cleanse  the  remains  of  meagre  repasts  from  these 
coarse  cups,  and  plates,  through  days  and  years,  with 
no  glad  hopes  or  joyous  fancies  to  lighten  the  toil !  I 
was  growing  desolate  hearted  myself,  and  concluded 
my  widowed  friend  had  sighed  and  wept  long 
enough ;  so  returning  the  little  charge  to  its  grand- 
father, I  went  to  Mrs.  Larkum's  side,  and  slipped 
the  note  into  her  hand,  at  the  same  time  saying 
good-bye,  and  motioned  to  Mra.  Blake  to  come 
home.  She  arose  very  reluctantly,  being  unwilling 
to  miss  her  friend's  surprise  and  satisfaction.  I 
too  was  constrained  to  look  at  her  as  she  unfolded 
the  note.  A  flush  swept  over  her  face  as  she  saw 
the  number,  and  handing  it  back  to  me,  she  said :— • 

"  You  have  made  a  mistake,  and  given  me  the 
wrong  bill." 

"  Oh  no,  indeed.    I  got  it  on  purpose  for  you." 

"  But  it  is  ten  dollars.  Surely  you  did  not  mean 
that." 

"  Mrs.  Blake  said  you  would  know  how  to  lay 
out  fifty  very  wisely,"  I  said,  with  a  smile. 

Her  tears,  always  so  convenient,  began  to  flow 
afresh.    Turning  to  her  father  she  said  with  a  sob, 


ft  ;■     * 


120 


MEDOLINU  SELWrifS  WORIt. 


t 


*'  Father,  your  prayers  are  getting  answered.  The 
Lord,  I  believe,  will  provide." 

I  saw  him  gather  the  baby  close  to  his  heart, 
and  then  with  a  gesture  of  self  command  he 
seemed  with  difficulty  to  restrain  his  own  emotion. 
"  The  Lord  reward  the  giver,"  he  murmured  in  a 
low  voice  ;  but  some  way  it  gave  me  the  feeling 
that  I  had  suddenly  received  some  precious  gift. 

"  When  that  is  gone  I  shall  have  some  more  for 
you,"  I  promised. 

"  Oh,  before  all  this  is  used  up,  I  must  try  to 
get  earning  myself.  But  this,  with  all  those 
vegetables  you  gave  me  yesterday,  will  give  rae 
such  a  start.  I  will  buy  a  whole  barrel  of  flour, 
it  spends  so  much  bettet— and  get  some  coals 
laid  in  for  winter.  They  are  the  heaviest  ex- 
pense." 

"  Yes,"  I  said,  impulsively,  "  and  flannek  for  the 
children.    It  will  be  so  much  better  than  crape." 

"  Crape  !  "  she 'ejaculated.  "  I  don't  need  crape 
for  my  husband.  I  have  too  much  mourning  in  my 
heart  to  put  any  on  outside." 

1  meant  some  day,  when  I  felt  pretty  courageous, 
to  repeat  her  words  to  Mr.  Winthrop.  Once 
outside,  I  found  the  glorious  expansion  of  sky 
and  horizon  very  grateful  after  the  narrow 
limits  of  the  little  cottage.  At  luncheon  Mr. 
Winthrop  asked  if  I  hud  paid  my  visit  yet  to  Mill 
Road.    I  acknowledged,  with  a  slight  crimsoning 


WORK. 

r  answered.    The 

ose  to  his  heart, 
slf  command  he 
his  own  emotion. 
le  murmured  in  a 
e  me  the  feeling 
me  precious  gift, 
^e  some  more  for 

ip,  I  must  try  to 
,  wiLh  all  those 
ay,  will  give  rae 
e  barrel  of  flour, 
get  some  coala 
the  heaviest  ex- 

id  flannels  for  the 
tter  than  crape." 
don't  need  crape 
L  mourning  in  my 

retty  courageous, 
iiVinthrop.  Once 
xpansion  of  sky 
ter  the  narrow 
.t  luncheon  Mr. 
'  visit  yet  to  Mill 
slight  crimsoning 


A  UELPING  BAND. 


121 


' 


df  cheekrthat*I'had  conveyed  to  Mrs.  Larkum  a 

small  sum  of  money. 

"  No  doubt  she  will  hiave  a  crape  weeper  as  long 

as  the  widow  Blake's." 

"  I  did  not  think  you  noticed  the  trivialities  of 
women's  attire  so  minutely." 

"  I  do  not  as  a  rule  ;  but  in  the  case  of  your 
intimate  friends,  it  is  natural  I  should  endeavor  to 
discover  their  especial  charms." 

"  Mrs.  Larkum  said  she  was  going  to  lay  out  the 
money  I  gave  her  chiefly  in  flour  and  coals.  I  sug- 
gested flannel  would  be  much  better  also  to  buy 
than  crape.  She  said  she  had  no  need  ^o  put  on 
mourning :  she  already  wore  it  in  her  heart." 

"  She  is  a  very  sensible  woman,"  my  guardian 
replied. 

Then  I  described,  as  minutely  as  I  could  and 
with  all  the  pathos  I  could  command,  the  grim 
surroundings  of  this  poor  family — the  grand- 
father, a^ith  his  serene,  sightless  face  and  strangely 
deep  trust  In  Providence;  the  clean,  but  faded, 
worn  garments  they  all  had  on — not  one  of  thenii 
apparently,  possessed  of  a  decent  suit  of  clothes ; 
and  then  their  horror  of  help  from  the  town.  Mrs. 
Flaxman  wiped  her  eyes  sympathetically  when  I 
repeated  the  grateful  words  my  gift  had  evoked, 
and  said  with  trembling  voice :  "  It  just  seems  as 
if  the  Lord  sent  you  there,  Medoline." 

"  Do  you  think  the  Ruler  of  this  vast  universe 


122 


MEDOLINE  BELWTirS  WORK. 


■  ,*•    I 


jj^fcij 


t^--     'I 


Ji 


fi  I 


lias  leisure  or  inclination  to  turn  his  gaze  on  such 
trivialities?  No  doubt  suns  and  systems  are  still 
being  sent  out  completed  on  their  limitless  circles. 
To  conceive  their  Creator  turning  from  such  high 
efforts  to  send  Medoline  with  a  ten  dollar  bill  to 
the  Larkums,  to  my  mind  borders  on  profanity," 
Mr.  Winthrop  said,  with  evident  disgust. 

"The  infinitely  great  and  infinitely  small  alike 
receive  His  care.  Perhaps  it  required  stronger 
power  from  God  to  make  you  give  me  the  money 
and  then  to  make  me  willing  to  carry  it  to  them,  than 
it  does  to  create  a  whole  cluster  of  suns  and 
planets.  I  think  our  wills  limit  God's  power  more 
than  anything  he  ever  created,  except  Satan  and 
his  angels." 

*'  You  are  quite  a  full-fledged  theologian,  little 
one.  I  am  surprised  you  do  not  engage  more 
heartily  in  home  mission  work." 

"I  must  first  learn  to  show  more  patience  at 
home." 

He  did  not  make  any  reply;  but  as  -wa  were 
speeding  on  our  way  that  afternoon  in  the  cars,  he 
came  to  my  side  and  handed  me  a  small  roll  of  bills. 

"  Would  you  like  to  buy  that  widower  friend  of 
yours  a  warm  suit  of  clothes  for  the  winter  ?  Mrs. 
Flaxman  will  show  you  a  suitable  furnishing 
establishment.  Philanthropists  must  do  all  sorts 
of  things,  as  you  will  find." 

**  You  are  very  kind  after  all,  Mr.  Winthrop.    I 


roiiK. 

lis  g^e  on  such 
lystems  are  still 
limitless  circles, 
from  such  high 
en  dollar  bill  to 
i  on  profanity," 
lissfust. 

itely  small  alike 
quired  stronger 
e  me  the  money 
jrit  to  them,  than 
er  of  suns  and 
rod's  power  more 
ixcept  Satan  and 

theologian,  little 
ot  engage  more 

aore  patience  at 

but  as  TW  were 
)n  in  the  cars,  he 
small  roll  of  bills, 
idower  friend  of 
lie  winter?  Mrs. 
table  furnishing 
oust  do  all  sorts 

Ir.  Winthrop.     I 


A  HELPING  HAND. 


ISB 


wish  I  could  tell  you  how  grateful  I  am.  Please 
forgive  all  my  rude  speeches— I  hope  I  will  never 
get  provoked  with  you  again." 

"I  most  cerbiinly  hope  you  will.    A  little  spice 
adds  greatly  to  the  flavor  of  one's  daily  food." 

He  walked  away ;  and  first  counting  my  gift,  I 
found,  to  my  surprise,  thiit  it  amounted  to  fifty 
dollars.   I  opened  my  little  velvet  satchel — my  tra- 
veling companion  for  many  a  weary  mile — and  laid 
it  safely  in  one  of  the  pockets.  I  had  plenty  of  leisure 
that  afternoon  for  fancy  to  paint  all  sorts  of  pict- 
ures.   Mr.  Winthrop  was  at  the  farther  end  of 
the  car,  with  a  group  of  friends  he  had  met ;  and 
Mrs.  Flaxman,  a  nervous  traveler  at  the  best,  was 
trying  to  forget  the  discomforts  of  travel  as  she  sat 
with  her  easy-chair  wheeled  into  a  sheltered  corner, 
sleeping  as  much  as    possible.    I  watched    the 
rapidly  disappearing  views  from  my  windows,  some 
of  them  causing  pleasant  thoughts,  and  sometimes 
re-touching  memories  so  remote  they  seemed  like 
experiences  of  another  existence,  which  my  soul 
had  known  before  it  came  under  its  present  limit- 
ations.   There  were  cottages  that  we  flew  past, 
reminding  me  of  the  Larkum  abode  ;  these  I  kept 
wearily  peoi)ling  with  white,  sightless  faces,  and 
hungry,  sad-faced  women  and  children. 

When  at  last  my  own  thoughts  were  beginning 
to  consume  me,  Mr.  Winthrop  came  and  sat  near 
me. 


124 


MEDOLtNE  SSLWTira  WOUE. 


k\      ' 


I     I. 


"Is  a  journey  in  the  cars  equal  to  an  hour  spent 
with  your  widows  ?  "  he  asked. 

"I  have  enjoyed  the  drive.  One  sees  so  much 
that  is  new,  and  is  food  for  thought,  only  the 
mind  gets  wearied  with  such  swift  variety." 

He  was  silent  for  some  time,  then,  with  a  com- 
plete change  of  topic  he  said, 

"I  have  been  glad  to  hear  you  practicing  so 
industriously  on  the  piano.  Some  day  you  may 
have  a  more  appreciative  audience  than  Mrs.  Flax- 
man  and  myself." 

"  It  has  helped  to  occupy  my  time.  I  do  not 
know,  that  much  else  has  been  accomplished." 

"  That  is  not  a  very  wise  reason  for  so  occupy- 
ing your  time." 

"  One  must  get  through  it  some  way.  In  pleas- 
ant weather,  getting  acquainted  with  nature,  in 
field  and  garden  and  by  the  seanshore,  was  my 
favorite  pastime." 

"  It  is  an  indolent  way  to  seek  the  acquaintance 
of  so  profound  a  mistress:— merely  sunning  one's 
self  under  the  trees,  or  listening  to  the  monotonous 
voice  of  the  sea,  sitting  on  the  rocks." 

"In  what  better  way  could  I  discover  her 
secrets  ?  " 

"  Following  in  the  steps  of  those  who  have  made 
her  in  her  varying  forms  a  life  long  study, 
and  who  have  embalmed  their  discoveries  in 
books." 


w 'Cji' nAtJJ**  1-iM;-"- •'■fi  - 


WOliE. 
I  to  an  hour  spent 

One  sees  so  much 
bought,  only  the 
'ift  variety." 
len,  with  a  com- 
mon practicing  so 
me  day  you  may 
)  than  Mrs.  Flax- 
time.  I  do  not 
complished." 
3u  forsooccupy- 

B  way.    Tnpleas- 

with  nature,  in 

idrshore,  was  my 

the  acquaintance 
ly  sunning  one's 
'  the  monotonous 
jks." 
I  discover    her 

3  who  have  made 
life  long  study, 
r    discoveries  in 


A  HELPING  HAND. 


125 


"  But  I  am  young  yet,  and  I  need  liist  to  dis- 
cover if  I  have  tastes  for  sucli  pursuits." 

"A  youthful  Methusaleh  might  make  that  ob- 
jection ;  but  your  years  are  too  few  to  pause  while 
making  a  selection." 

"  At  first  when  I  c.  ne  to  Oaklands,  I  was 
perplexed  to  know  how  the  long  days  and  years 
were  to  be  occupied." 

"Have  you  since  then  found  for  yourself  a 
career  ?  " 

"  I  am  finding  an  abundance  of  work,  if  I  only 
am  willing  to  do  it." 

"You  must  not  get  so  absorbed  in  deeds  of 
charity  that  you  forget  the  duties  belonging  to 
yourself  and  position.  Oaklands  may  not  always 
be  your  home,  with  its  pastoral  enjoyments.  You 
should  «ndeavor  to  fit  youi-self  for  wider  and 
higher  spheres  of  action." 

"In  the  meantime,  however,  my  life  must  be 
got  through  some  way.  If  I  can  help  others  to  be 
happier,  surely  my  time  cannot  be  quite  wasted; 
and  I  may  the  easier  render  my  final  account." 

"Ah,  that's  a  perplexing  question— our  final 
settlement  for  the  deeds  of  this  life." 

I  looked  my  surprise  at  his  tone  of  voice. 

"  You  have  not  learned  yet,  Medoline,  to  doubt. 
Very  well,  never  begin.  It's  horrible  having  no 
sure  anchor  to  hold  by  when  death  forces  one  into 
unknown  oceans,  or  shipwrecks  with  annihilation." 


126 


MEDOLINE  SELWYN'S  WORK. 


% 


"  Death  never  can  do  that,  if  we  trust  in  Christ, 
who  turned  our  last  enemy  into  a  blessed  angel." 

"  Your  faith  is  very  beautiful,  and  is,  no  doubt, 
sufBcient  for  your  utmost  intellectual  needs ;  and 
by  all  means  hold  to  it  as  you  would  to  your  life." 

**  I  think  it  is  the  same  that  St.  Paul,  and  Martin 
Luther,  and  John  Milton,  and  a  thousand,  yes  a 
million  other  noblest  intellects,  held  firmly.  Surely 
it  will  serve  for  me." 

"You  are  satisfied,  then,  to  think  with  the 
crowd?" 

"  Yes,  until  something  more  reasonable  is  given 
me  than  God's  word  and  revealed  religion.  But, 
Mr.  Winthrop,  I  am  only  a  heard  believer.  I  am 
not  a  Christian,  really." 

"If  I  believed  the  Bible  as  you  do," I  would  not 
risk  my  soul  one  half  hour  without  complying  with 
every  command  of  the  Scriptures.  You  who  so 
firmly  believe,  and  yet  live  without  the  change  of 
heart  imperatively  demanded  by  the  Bible,  are  the 
most  foolhardy  beings  probably  in  the  entiie 
universe." 

"  Are  we  any  more  foolish  than  those  who  dare 
to  doubt  with  the  same  evidence  that  we  possess  ?  " 

"Possibly  not ;  but  I  think  you  are." 

I  was  silent ;  for  there  came  to  me  a  sudden 
consciousness  that  Mr.  Winthrop  was  right.  I 
had  no  doubts  about  the  great  truths  of  our  re- 


i«ii*% 


!'■»■£■* -.nv-w  =J»i-»*  «>*"'' V - 


>''~iif  '   '■>''^:^S!C^^-^-*'"'^  ^^ , 


WORE. 

w  trust  in  Christ, 
a  blessed  angel." 

and  is,  no  doubt, 
ictual  needs ;  and 
)uld  to  your  life." 

Paul,  and  Martin 
I  thousand,  yes  a 
3ld  firmly.  Surely 

think  with  the 

sasonable  is  given 
id  religion.  But, 
d  believer.    I  am 

1  do,  I  would  not 
it  complying  with 
es.  You  who  so 
out  the  change  of 
the  Bible,  are  the 
^    in    the    entire 

.n  those  who  dare 
;hat  we  possess  ?  " 
I  are." 

to  me  a  sudden 
op  was  right.  I 
truths  of  our  re* 


A  IIELl'IAG  HAND. 


127 


ligion  ;  and  what  excuse  then  could  I  offer  for  not 
accepting  them  to  the  very  utmost  of  my  human 
need? 


CHAPTER  XL 


CITY  LIFE. 


In  the  late  evening  the  lights  from  the  restless, 
crowded  city  began  to  twinkle  in  the  distance,  and 
shortly  another  living  freight  was  btuno  safely 
within  its  shelter.  Mr.  Wintlirop  had  met  a  friend 
who  came  into  the  car,  a  station  or  two  back,  and 
had  grown  so  absorbed  in  conversation  that  he  paid 
no  heed  to  the  people  hurrying  out  into  the  night. 
Mrs.  Flaxman  was  aroused  by  the  commotion  and 
glanced  around  uneasily,  but  did  not  like  to  inter- 
rupt Mr.  Winthrop's  eager  conversation.  Besides, 
she  comforted  hei-self  with  the  belief  that  our  train 
would  probably  lay  in  New  York  for  the  night. 
At  last  Mr.  Winthrop  came  to  escort  us  out.  "  I 
believe  we  have  no  time  to  spare.  I  did  not  notice 
that  we  had  reached  our  terminus." 

"  It  is  no  use  denying  the  fact;  men  are  greater 
talkers  than  women,"  I  remarked  seriously. 

"Why  so? "he  asked,  pausing  with  satchel 
suspended,  awaiting  my  answer. 


)ni  the  restless, 
le  distance,  and 
IS  bt)rno  safely 
ad  met  a  friend 
two  back,  and 
ion  that  he  paid 
;  into  the  night, 
commotion  and 
ot  like  to  inter- 
ition.  Besides, 
if  that  our  train 
:  for  the  night, 
ort  us  out.  "  I 
I  did  not  notice 

men  are  greater 

eriously. 

'   with  satchel 


H'l 


CITY  LIFE. 


120 


"Why,  no  two  women  on  the  continent  would 
get  so  absorbed  in  each  other  as  to  foig- 1  they  hud 
reached  their  journey's  end,  and  had  need  to  be  in 

a  hurry." 

"  Probably  not ;  their  topics  would  be  too  trivial 
to  claim  so  much  attention." 

I  found  the  reply  unanswerable,  and  hastened 
after  Mrs.  Flaxman,  who  was  already  out  of  sight. 
Wlicn  we  reached  the  door  the  cars  were  in 
motion.—"  What  shall  we  do?  "  I  cried,  anxiously. 
"  I  could  never  get  off  while  the  cars  were  mov- 
ing." I  caught  a  glimpse  of  Mrs.  Flaxman's  scared 
face  as  we  went  past. 

"  Leave  me  and  go  to  Mrs.  Flaxman.  A  man  can 
jump  easily,  I  am  sure,"  I  pleaded,  finding  that  we 
were  moving  out  of  the  station,  and  actually  on  the 
road  again. 

"  And  what  will  you  do  ?  "  he  asked  very  calmly. 

"  I  have  plenty  of  money  in  my  pocket,  and  can 
pay  my  way  back  by  the  next  train,"  I  said,  hur- 
riedly. 

"  You  would  travel  alone  at  midnight  to  save 
Mrs.  Flaxman  a  trifling  anxiety?" 

"  I  won't  be  frightened,  and  she  will  be  so  wor- 
ried there,  all  alone  among  strangers,"  I  pleaded. 

"  Mrs.  Flaxman  knows  our  hotel.  She  will  be 
safe  vrhen  she  reaches  there,  which  will  be  in  a  few 
minutes  now.  So  you  need  not  be  troubled  about 
her.    I  shall  not  leave  you,"  he  said,  decidedly. 

9 


r  1 


130 


MRDOLINE  HKLWYJ^'S  WOJth'. 


We  went  back  into  the  cur,  which  was  nearly 
empty ;  but,  some  way,  1  felt  na  content  and  safe  as 
if  we  had  joined  Mrs.  Flaxinan  at  the  hotel.  Mr. 
Winthrop  sat  near,  but  he  did  not  seem  in  a  mood 
just  then  for  conversation.  I  think  he  felt  cha- 
grined at  his  carelessness,  but  I  was  wicked  enough 
to  enjoy  it.  I  loaned  my  head  back  against '  my 
easy-chair  and  furtively  watched  my  guardian,  as 
he  sat  writing  in  a  large  blank  book  w  hich  he  took 
from  his  pocket  after  awhile.  I  had  never  before 
had  such  opportunity  to  study,  in  repose,  the  strong, 
intellectual  face.  As  I  watclied  the  varying  moods 
of  his  mind,  while  ho  thought  and  wrote,  it  re- 
minded me  of  cloud-swept  meadows  on  a  summer's 
day — tlie  sunshine  succeeding  the  shadow.  I  fan- 
cied that  the  mask  which  conceals  the  workings 
of  the  spirit  life  became  partly  transparent  and 
luminous,  and  I  seemed  to  see  poetic  fancy  and 
noble  thoughts  weaving  their  wondrous  webs  back 
somewhere  in  the  fastnesses  of  '  soul.  And  then 
I  glanced  around  at  the  other  occupants  of  the  oar; 
and,  fancy  being  alert,  all  their  faces  reminded  me 
of  so  many  masks,  with  the  real  individual  shel- 
tered behind  in  its  own  secure  fastness,  and  all  the 
while  industriously  weaving  the  web  of  life;  al- 
ways vigilant,  ever  throwing  the  shuttle  ;  whether 
wisely  or  foolishly,  only  the  resultant  action  could 
determine.  But  the  faces  grew  indistinct;  the 
steady  movement  back  and  forth  of  the  writer's 


11 


VOliK. 

lich  was  nearly 
itent  nnd  siife  ns 
the  hotel.  Mr. 
soein  ill  a  mood 
Ilk  ho  felt  cha- 
s  wicked  enough 
lick  against' my 
my  guardian,  ns 
k  w  liich  he  took 
ad  never  before 
pose,  the  strong, 
e  varying  moods 
id  wrote,  it  re- 
s  on  a  summer's 
shadow.  I  fan- 
Is  the  workings 
transparent  and 
oetic  fancy  and 
lIi'ous  webs  back 
soul.  And  then 
pants  of  the  car; 
!es  reminded  me 
individual  shel- 
nesa,  and  all  the 
web  of  life;  al- 
huttle ;  whether 
tint  action  could 
indistinct;  the 
of  the  writer's 


CITY  LIFE. 


lyi 


'r 


hand  no  longer  interested  me,  for  I  was  asleep. 
I  do  not  know  how  long  I  had  slept.  My  hat 
had  slipped  to  the  floor;  my  heavy  coils  of  hair, 
usually  difficult  to  keep  in  proper  control,  had  un- 
loosened by  the  constant  motion  of  the  car  and 
fallen  in  heavy  rings  about  my  shoulders.  I  opened 
my  eyes  suddenly  to  find  that  my  guardian  had  put 
away  his  writing,  and  was  standing  near,  regarding 
me,  I  fancied,  with  a  look  of  displeasure. 

"  I  did  not  mean  to  fall  asleep,"  I  faltered,  while 
I  quickly  coiled  up  my  hair,  and  put  on  my  hat. 

"  It  is  my  fault  you  slept  in  this  public  place.  I 
had  forgotten  about  you." 

I  looked  at  him  with  an  admiration  almost 
amounting  to  awe,  thinking  how  engrossed  he  must 
have  become  in  liis*owii  thoughts  to  have  forgotten 
me  so  perfectly  ;  and  then  I  speculated  on  the  irony 
of  fate  in  placing  one  so  unconventional  as  I  under 
the  care  of  a  man  so  exceedingly  fastidious. 

I  was  standing  beside  him.  In  \\\y  excitement, 
^when  awakening,  I  had  started  to  my  feet,  but  with 
difficulty  maintained  my  position  ;  for  my  head  was 
dizzy  with  the  sudden  start  from  sound  sleep,  to- 
gether with  the  unaccustomed  hour  for  traveling. 
Glancing  at  my  watch,  I  saw  that  it  was  past  mid- 
night. I  think  Mr.  Winthrop  noticed  my  weari- 
ness, for  he  Staid,  rather  grimly : 

*•  It  is  too  bad,  having  you  out  late  two  nights  in 


1 


,!i 


l  ' 


succession. 


132 


MEDOLINE  SELWYIf'S  WORK. 


I  remembered  hia  gift  for  Mr.  Bowen,  and  was 
silent. 

"  At  the  next  station  we  will  be  able  to  change 
cars  for  New  York.  The  conductor  tells  me  we 
sliall  only  be  compelled  to  wait  a  short  time." 

"I  will  rest  then  until  we  get  theie,"  I  said,  no 
doubt  very  wearily,  for  I  felt  not  only  dizzy,  but 
slightly  faint,  and  sank  into  my  chair.  He  looked 
down  at  me,  and  then  said,  in  more  gentle  fashion 
than  he  had  ever  before  addressed  me : 

"  I  am  very  sorry,  Medoline,  to  have  caused  you 
so  much  needless  fatigue." 

I  quite  forgot  my  weariness  then.  It  was  so  com- 
forting to  know  he  could  acknowledge  regret  for 
anything,  and  that  his  heart  was  not  made  of  flint, 
as,  unconfessed  to  myself,  I  had  partly  imagined. 

I  looked  up  brightly.  "  I  do  not  know  if  I  am 
not  rather  glad  than  sorry  that  we  have  shown  our- 
selves such  forgetful  travelers.  It  will  be  some- 
thing unusual  to  remember." 

"  That  is  a  very  kindly  way  to  look  on  my  for- 
getfulness — rather,  I  should  say,  stupidity."  He 
sat  down  l\ic:\  and  the  short  remaining  distance 
we  passed  in  silence. 

We  were  both  very  prompt  in  responding  to  the 
summons  given  by  the  conductor  when  our  station 
was  reached.  The  waiting-room  was  Avell  lighted 
and  warmed,  and  a  welcome  odor  of  food  pervaded 
the  air.    I  resolved  to  make  a  little  foray  on  my 


..»M'-"t)W"*W«M"? 


WORK. 

.  Bowen,  and  was 

be  able  to  change 
ictor  tells  me  we 
slioit  time." 
;  theie,"  I  said,  no 
ot  only  dizzy,  but 
chair.  He  looked 
Dre  gentle  fashion 
d  me: 
)  have  caused  you 

n.  It  was  so  com- 
wledge  regret  for 
not  made  of  flint, 
lartly  imagined, 
lot  know  if  I  am 
e  have  shown  our- 
It  will  be  some- 
look  on  my  for- 
,  stupidity."  He 
smaining  distance 

responding  to  the 
when  our  station 
was  Avell  lighted 
of  food  pervaded 

itlle  foray  on  my 


CtTT  LIFE. 


iss 


\'< 


own  account,  to  secure,  if  possible,  a  bit  of  luncheon ; 
but,  after  seeing  me  comfortably  seated  by  a  hot 
stove,  Mr.  Winthrop  left,  only  to  return  in  a  few 
moments  with  the  welcome  announcement  that 
refreshments  were  awaiting  us.  I  expressed  my 
surprise  that  food  should  be  in  readiness  at  that 
unseasonable  hour. 

"  Oh,  I  telegraphed  an  hour  ago  to  have  it  pre- 
pared," he  replied. 

"  Then  I  was  sleeping  a  good  while,"  I  said,  rue- 
fully. 

"  An  hour  or  two.  I  only  wakened  you  in  time 
to  collect  yourself  for  changing  cars." 

"  And  you  have  not  slept  at  all  ?  " 

"  Scarcely.  I  do  not  permit  myself  that  luxury 
in  public." 

I  was  silenced,  but  not  so  far  crushed  as  to  lose 
my  appetite.  A  cup  of  tea,  such  as  Mrs.  Flaxman 
never  brewed  for  me,  effectually  banished  sleep  for 
the  rest  of  the  night.  The  journey  back  was  tire- 
some, the  car  crowded,  and  the  long  night  seemed 
interminable.  I  was  wedged  in  beside  a  stout  old 
gentleman,  whose  breath  was  disagreeably  sugges- 
tive of  stale  brandy,  while  a  wheezy  cough  dis- 
turbed him  as  well  as  myself.  He  looked  well 
to  do,  and  was  inclined  to  be  friendly;  but  his 
eyes  had  a  peculiar  expression  that  repelled 
me.  Mr.  Winthrop  had  got  a  seat  some  distance 
behind  me.     By  twisting  my  neck  uncomfortably, 


■i':< 


M 


ri! 


134 


MELOLINE  SELWrirS  WORK. 


»l: 


ili 


I  could  get  a  reast-uriug  glimpse  of  his  broad 
shoulders  and  handsome  face.  At  last  he  came  to 
me.  I  half  rose,  for  my  aged  companion  was 
making  me  nervous  with  his  anxiety  for  my 
comfort. 

"  We  will  go  into  the  next  car ;  it  may  not  be 
so  crowded,"  he  said,  taking  my  satchel.  Fortu- 
nately we  found  a  vacant  seat ;  and  I  began  to 
feel  very  safe  and  content  with  him  again  at  my 
side. 

"  I  do  not  think  your  late  traveling  companion 
could  have  been  a  widower,  or  you  would  not  have 
been  so  eager  to  get  away.  The  look  of  appeal  on 
your  face,  when  I  got  an  occasional  glimpse  of  it, 
was  enough  to  melt  one's  heart." 

I  laughed  in  spite  of  myself.  "  It  never  occurred 
to  me  to  ask,  but  he  certainly  is  not  a  woman 
hater,"  I  said,  with  a  flush,  as  I  mentally  recalled 
some  of  his  gracious  remarks.  I  made  my  replies  in 
brief  and  stately  dignity ;  or  at  least  as  much  of  the 
latter  as  I  could  command,  but  he  was  not  easily  re-" 
pulsed.  Feeling  so  secure  and  sheltered  now,  my 
thoughts  went  out  to  the  unprotected  of  my  sex 
cast  among  the  evil  and  heartless,  to  fight  their 
way  purely  amid  blackness  and  sin.  I  shuddered 
unconsciously.     Mr.  Winthrop  turned  to  me. 

"Are  you  cold?"  he  asked. 

"  Oh,  no,  I  was  only  thinking,"  I  stammered. 

"I  would  cease  thinkhig  if  the  thoughts  were 


FORK. 

36  of  his  broad 
)  last  he  came  to 
companion  was 
inxiety  for  my 

;  it  may  not  be 
satchel.  Fortu- 
and  I  began  to 
m  again  at  my 

sling  companion 
would  not  have 
3ok  of  appeal  on 
al  glimpse  of  it, 

t  never  occurred 
3  not  a  woman 
lentally  recalled 
ide  my  replies  in 
t  as  much  of  the 
V  as  not  easily  re- 
Itered  now,  my 
jcted  of  my  sex 
,  to  fight  their 
.  I  shuddered 
ned  to  me. 

r  stammered. 
I  thoughts  were 


CITY  LIFE. 


138 


so  blood-curdling.     May  I  ask  what  they  were  ?" 
"  I  was  pitying  poor  girls  who  have  to  make 
their  way  alone  in  this  wicked  world." 

He  was  silent  for  some  time,  and  then  said 
gravely:  "Your  instincts  are  very  keen.  That 
gray-haired  gentleraiin  happens  to  be  a  person  I 
know  something  about,  and  his  very  presence  is 
enough  to  contaminate." 

I  was  amazed  that  he  so  easily  understood  my 
meaning.    The  sun  was  reddening  the  sky,  which 
seemed  so  pure  and  still  compared  with  the  sinful, 
noisy  city  that,  for  an  instant,  a  homesick  longing 
seized  me  to  escape  to  its  clear,  beautiful  depths. 
When  we  reached  the  hotel  I  was  cold,  and  feeling 
very  cheerless ;  but  a  comfortable  looking  maid, 
not  half  so  overwhelming  as  our  Esmerelda,  con- 
ducted me  to  a  pleasant  room,  and  soon  had  a 
bright  fire  burning,  and  a  cozy  breakfast  spread  on 
a  little  table  just  in  front  of  the  grate.     I  was  not 
hungry,  but  I  took  the  cup  of  hot  chocolate  Mr. 
Winthrop  had  ordered,  and  nibbled  a  bit  of  toast ; 
and  then,  drawing  an  easy-chair  in  front  of  the 
fire,  soon  fell  into  a  luxurious  sleep,  from  which  I 
did  not  waken  for  several  hours.    The  maid  came 
in  occasionally  to  replenish  the  fire,  but  her  light 
movements  did  not  disturb  me.     Afterward   I 
found  the  hotel  wivs  not  a  public  one, but  a  private 
affair,  patronized  mainly  by  a  number  of  old  fami- 
lies whose  parents  andcliildven  had  come  and  gone 


i'  i 


j  ,; 
'i  i 


;!l 


136 


MEDOLINE  SELWYN'S  [VOBK. 


11; 


!ii 


for  nearly  half  a  century.  The  room  I  occupied, 
^  Mrs.  Flaxman  told  me,  was  the  very  one  my  own 
dear  mother  had  occupied  as  a  bride ;  and  hence 
Mr.  Winthiop  had  secured  it  for  me.  It  was  the 
best  in  the  house,  I  found  later  on.  That  evening, 
after  I  had  wakened  refreshed,  and  eager  to  see 
and  hear  all  that  was  possible  in  this  new  wonder- 
land, Mrs.  Flaxman,  still  a  little  nervous  after  her 
journey  and  anxiety  on  my  account,  came  and  sat 
with  me;  and  to  atone  for  keeping  me  in  the 
house,  told  me  stories  of  that  beautiful,  far-away 
time  when  she  had  seen  my  mother  in  that  same 
room  in  the  first  joy  of  wifehood,  and  described 
my  father  as  the  proud,  happy  bridegroom,  gazing 
with  more  than  a  lover's  fondness  on  the  beautiful 
girl  who  had  left  all  for  him,  and  yet  in  the  renun- 
ciation had  found  no  sacrifice.  She  described  the 
rich  silken  gown  with  its  rare,  old  lace,  and  the 
diamonds  she  wore  at  her  first  party  in  New  York. 
"  Mr.  Winthrop  has  them,  your  mother's  diamonds 
and  all  her  jewelry.  In  being  an  only  child  like 
yourself,  sheinherited  all  her  own  mother's.  They 
are  all  safely  stored  at  his  bankers,  and  I  think  he 
means  to  give  them  to  you  soon,  or  at  least  a  part 
of  them." 

"I  did  not  kno\7  I  had  any  except  what  I 
brought  with  me  fjom  school," I  said, with  a  shade 
of  regret  to  be  so  long  in  ignorance  of  such  a 
pleasant  fact.    Mrs.  Flaxman  smiled  as  she  asked : 


t 


i 


'ORE. 

3m  I  occupied, 
ry  one  my  own 
;'ide ;  and  hence 
le.    It  was  the 

That  evening, 
nd  eager  to  see 
lis  new  wouder- 
jrvous  after  her 
t,  came  and  sat 
)ing  me  in  the 
Litiful,  far-away 
er  in  that  same 
,  and  described 
legroom,  gazing 
m  the  beautiful 
3t  in  the  renun- 
e  described  the 
I  lace,  and  the 
y  in  New  York, 
her's  diamonds 
only  child  like 
(Other's.  They 
and  I  think  he 

at  least  a  part 

except  what  I 
d,  with  a  shade 
mce  of  such  a 
d  as  she  asked : 


4 


CiTT  LIFE. 


137 


"  Did  you  never  hear  your  schoolmates  talk  of 
the  family  plate  and  jewelry?  " 

"  Oh,  yes ;  there  were  a  few  stupid  ones  who 
had  very  little  brains  to  be  proud  of;  so  they  used 
to  try  and  make  up  for  the  lack  by  telling  us  about 
such  things ;  but  we  reckoned  a  good  essay  writer 
worth  a  good  deal  more  than  these  plate  owners." 

"  There  must  have  been  great  changes  since  1 
was  at  school.  I  believe  the  rising  generation  is 
developing  a  nobler  ambition  than  their  predeces- 
sors possessed." 

"  I  should  hope  so,"  I  said,  with  girlish  scorn  ; 
"  as  if  such  mere  accidents  as  birth  and  the  owner- 
ship of  plate  and  jewelry  could  give  one  higher 
rank  than  intellect.  Why,  I  believe  that  is  the 
scarcest  thing  in  all  the  universe." 

"  It  does  seem  ridiculous,"  Mrs.  Flaxman  said 
reflectively,  "but  it  is  hard  escaping  from  the 
spirit  of  the  age  in  which  we  live.  It  would  be 
easy  to  hold  such  things  lightly  in  those  heroic 
days  in  Greece  when  Lycurgus  cheapened  the  gold 
and  things  the  masses  held  most  precious."  ^ 

"  One  can  have  a  little  republic  in  their  own 
soul  as  well  as  Lycurgus,  and  indulge  unforced  in 
high  thinking.  I  think  that  would  be  really  more 
creditable  than  if  CM^ry  one  agreed  to  do  so  by  act 
of  senate." 

"  It  would  be  a  grand  thing  for  every  one  to  get 


m 


I         !    I 
I     I    1 


hi  1!  i 

i 


If'; 


1 


1S8 


MEDOLINE  SELWTira  WORK. 


the  dross  all  burned  away  from  their  nature  and 
only  have  the  pure  gold  left." 

*'  Don't  you  think,  Mrs.  Flaxman,  with  a  good 
many  people,  after  the  burning  process,  there 
would  be  so  little  left  it  would  take  a  whole  flock 
of  them  to  make  a  decent  sized  individual  ?  " 

She  laughed  softly.  "  I  never  thought  of  it  in 
that  way.  I  am  afraid  now  I  will  get  to  undress- 
ing my  acquaintances,  to  try  and  find  out  how 
much  that  will  be  fit  to  take  into  higher  existences 
they  have  in  their  composition." 

"Mr.  Winthrop  is  a  very  uncomfortable  sort  of 
person  to  live  with,  but  I  think  he  will  have  more 
noble  qualities  to  carry  somewhere  after  death 
than  the  average  of  my  acquaintances.  What  a 
pity  it  is  for  such  splendid  powers  of  mind  to  be 
lost!  He  has  the  materials  in  him  to  make  a 
grand  angel." 

Mrs.  Flaxman  looked  up  quickly. 

"  You  cannot  think  it  is  his  ultimate  destiny  to 
be  lost  ?  "  she  questioned. 

"  He  doesn't  believe  in  the  Bible.  What  hope 
can  he  have  that  we  will  ever  get  to  heaven  ?  " 

"  A  multitude  of  prayers  are  piled  between  him 
and  perdition.  His  mother  was  a  saintly  charac- 
ter, whose  dying' breath  was  a  prayer  for  him ;  and 
there  are  others  who  have  taken  his  case  daily  to 
the  mercy  seat  for  years." 

"  I  wish  I  had  some  one  to  pray  for  me,"  I  said 
rather  fretfully. 


m^ 


rosK. 

their  nature  and 

an,  with  a  good 
r  process,  there 
ke  a  whole  flock 
dividual  ?  " 
thought  of  it  in 
1  get  to  undress- 
d  find  out  how 
tigher  existences 

mfortable  sort  of 
e  will  have  more 
ore  after  death 
ances.  What  a 
s  of  mind  to  be 
him  to  make  a 

imate  destiny  to 

)le.  What  hope 
to  heaven  ?  " 
led  between  him 
a  saintly  charac- 
ter for  him ;  and 
his  case  daily  to 

r  for  me,"  I  said 


CITY  LIFE. 


189 


**My  dear,  I  do  not  know  any  one  who  has 
more  leisure  to   pray  for   themselves  than  you 

have." 

I  was  surprised  to  hear  her  speak  so  lightly  on 
such  a  solemn  subject ;  but  as  I  thought  the  mat- 
ter over  afterward,  I  could  but  acknowledge  that 
she  had  answered  me  just  as  I  deserved. 


m\ 


1111 


!■•  I 

1  !    t 


Hi 


CHAPTER  XII. 


HEW  ACQUAINTANCES. 


Mrs.  PiiAXMAN's  fears  were  realized.  She  was 
detained  from  her  pickles  and  preserves  for  over  a 
fortnight ;  but  the  days  spent  then  in  the  city  were 
an  entirely  new  revelation  of  life  to  me.  Mr. 
Winthrop  had  a  circle  of  literary  friends,  who 
seemed  determined  to  make  his  stay  so  pleasant 
that  he  would  not  be  in  a  hurry  to  return  to  the 
solitude  of  Oaklands.  When  I  saw  his  keen  en- 
joyment of  their  society,  and  the  many  varied 
privileges  he  had  in  that  brief  period — musical, 
artistic,  and  literary,  I  was  filled  with  surprise 
that  he  should  make  his  home  at  Oaklands  at  all, 
and  expressed  my  wonder  to  Mrs.  Flaxman. 

"  Oil,  he  often  goes  away — sometimes  to  Europe, 
and  sometimes  to  the  great  American  centres  of 
thought  and  life ;  then  he  comes  home  apparently 
glad  of  its  quiet  and  freedom  from  interruption. 
I  think  he  uses  up  all  the  raw  experiences  and 
ideas  he  gets  when  away." 


'1^  t, .( 


NEW  ACQUAINTANCES. 


141 


ilized.  She  was 
serves  for  over  a 
in  the  city  were 
fe  to  me.  Mr. 
•y  friends,  who 
stay  so  pleasant 

0  return  to  the 
law  his  keen  en- 
he  many  varied 
period — musical, 

1  with  surprise 
Oaklands  at  all, 
Flaxman. 
iimes  to  Europe, 
rican  centres  of 
lome  apparently 
am  interruption, 
experiences  and 


I  thought  her  reply  over,  and  wondered  if  it  was 
the  usual  habit  of  literary  people  to  go  out  on 
those  foraging  expeditious  and  bring  back  material 
vo  be  used  up  in  weeks  of  solitude.    We  were 
either   out  among   friends,  at   concerts,  lectures, 
evening  gatherings,  or  else  receiving   Mr.  Win- 
throp's  particular  friends  at  our  hotel,  every  even- 
ing.   I  enjoyed  those  evenings  at  home,  I  think, 
the  very  best  of  all.     We  sat  late,  supper  being 
served  about  midnight — a  plain,  sensible  repast 
that,  with  a  man  of  Mr.  Winthrop's  means,  might 
certainly  betoken  high  thinking.    However,  the 
intellectual  rej;:*at;  served  to  us  reminded  me  of  the 
feasts  of  t'.ie  gods,  or  even  better,  in  old  Homeric 
times.     There  were  condensed  thoughts  that  often 
kept  me  puzzling  ever  their  meanings  long  after 
their  words  had  died  on  the  air.    Mrs.  Flaxman 
sat,  a  mostly  silent  listener,  but  in  no  wise  showing 
weariness  at  the  lateness  of  the  hour,  or  mental 
strain  imposed  in  following  such  abstract  lines  of 
thought.    I  too  listened  silently,  save  in  reply  to 
some  direct  remark,  but  with  pained,  growing 
thoughts,  that  often  left  me  utterly  weary  when 
the  little  company  dispersed.    I  would  often  stop 
listening  and  fall  into  vague,  hopeless  speculations 
as  to  the  number  of  centuries  that  must  elapse 
before  I  could  overtake  them.    Saddest  fancy  of 
all  was  that  my  powers  might  be  too  limited  even 
to  do  this.    Our  daylight  hours  were,  in  great 


■i.!      t 


i*  1- 


.  Ij.i  :     « 


I   ^ 


!  I 


142 


MEDOLINE  SELWYIf'S  WOIIK. 


measure,  passed  in  making  and  receiving  calls 
from  Mrs.  Flaxmun's  friends,  who  seemed  very 
quick  to  find  out  she  was  there,  and  in  visiting  the 
huge  dressmaking  and  dry  goods  establislmients 
which  she  patronized.  I  found  it  quite  difficult, 
at  times,  to  reconcile  the  fact  that  those  we  met 
by  day  were,  in  the  main,  created  in  the  same 
mental  likeness  as  those  I  listened  to  with  such 
admiration  in  the  evening.  I  used  to  close  my 
eyes  at  times  and  fancy  the  old  lieathen,  mythology 
to  be  true,  and  tliat  the  gods  were  actually  revisit- 
ing the  earth,  and  bringing  with  them  the  high 
conceptions  from  Olympus,  I  was  able  more  clearly 
than  ever  to  recognise  how  high  were  Mr.  Win- 
throp's  ideals,  so  far  as  this  world  goes,  of  human 
excellence  and,  with  deepest  humiliation,  remem- 
bered how  far  I  must  have  come  short  of  his 
lowest  standards.  I  went  to  Mrs.  Flaiman  with 
this  new  and  painful  discovery,  and  as  usual,  she 
brought  her  consolation. 

"  Very  few  can  hope  to  attain  such  excellence 
of  culture  and  intellect  as  these  men  possess. 
You  and  I  ought  to  be  grateful  to  our  Creator  if 
he  has  given  us  brain  power  sufficient  to  appreciate 
and  comprehend  tlieir  words.  I  know  it  has  given 
Mr.  Winthrop  deep  satisfaction  to  see  you  so  in- 
terested in  their  conversation." 

"  How  do  you  know  that?  "  I  asked,  pleased  at 
her  words. 


VOIIK. 

receiving  calls 
lio  seemed  very 
id  in  visiting  the 
s  establishments 
it  quite  difficult, 
,t  tliose  we  met 
ted  in  the  same 
ed  to  witli  such 
sed  to  close  my 
ithen,  mythology 
)  actually  revisit- 
1  them  the  high 
able  more  clearly 
I  were  Mr.  Win- 
goes,  of  human 
n  illation,  remem- 
xie  short  of  his 
•3.  Flaiman  with 
md  AH  usual,  she 

a  such  excellence 
ise  men  possess, 
to  our  Creator  if 
lent  to  appreciate 
know  it  has  given 
o  see  you  so  in- 
asked,  plsased  at 


NEW  ACqUAINTANCKS. 


143 


"I  look  at  him  sometimes  while  you  get  so 
absorbed  listening  that  you  seem  to  forget  every- 
thing; and  I  see  the  gratified  expression  of  his 
face  while  he  watches  you.  I  know  it  v/ould  be  a 
disappointment  to  him  if  you  should  develop  into 
a  fashionable,  feather-headed  woman." 

"Oi  a  widow-helping  philanthropist,"  I  said, 
laughing. 

"  Of  the  two,  he  would  prefer  the  latter." 

"  But  neither  would  be  lii-s  idciil." 

"  I  am  not  altogether  certain  of  that ;  but  I  do 
know  he  holds  in  strong  dislike  a  woman  who 
simply  exists  to  follow  the  fashions,  no  matter  how 
attractive  she  may  be." 

"  I  am  ashamed  to  say  I  like  getting  new  things, 
especially  when  they  are  becoming,"  I  said,  a 
little  shamefacedly. 

"  I  am  sure  you  would  get  tired  of  a  perpetual 
round  of  new  hats  and  frocks,  and  trying  them  on, 
I  am  not  apt  to  be  mistaken  in  a  person." 

"  But  it  is  vastly  easier  to  think  of  harmonious 
colors  and  combinations  of  dry  goods,  than  it  is  to 
puzzle  over  those  knotty  subjects  we  listen  to  here 
in  the  evening,  or  to  translate  Chopin  or  Wagner, 
or  the  other  great  masters." 

"  But  once  mastering  any  of  these,  the  pleasure 
aiising  therefrom  gives  satisfaction  to  a  noble 
cast  of  mind  that  a  whole  gallery  of  Worth's 
choicest  costumes  could  not  produce. 


'\:^\^ 


1     ;    1 


ill 

Ml' 


i  iM- 


144 


MEDOLINE  SEHVYN'S  WORK. 


It 


■i! 
11 


iii 

'-J  !  i| 


♦'  Solomon  said :  Much  study  is  a  weariness  o£ 
the  flesh." 

"Solomon  was  an  intellectual  dyspeptic.  But 
granting  that  it  is  a  weariness,  it  is  something  tiiat 
pays  well  for  the  weariness." 

"If  all  the  world  were  to  come  to  Mr.  Win- 
throp's  way  of  thinking,  it  would  be  a  sad  thing 
for  the  dressmakers." 

*'  Not  necessarily.  They  would  still  be  needed, 
but  they  would  do  the  thinking  about  what  would 
best  suit  the  style  of  their  respective  customei-s ; 
and  the  latter  would  be  left  free  of  that  special 
*ask,  to  devote  their  minds  to  their  own  interior 
furnishing." 

"Ah,  you  describe  a  second  Utopia,  or  the 
golden  age.  A  few  in  each  generation  might  reach 
that  clear,  chill  region  of  sublime  thought;  but  the 
rank  and  file  of  womankind,  and  perhaps  of  raan- 
kind,*would  despise  them  as  cranks." 

"  But  if  they  had  something  vastly  better  than 
the  respect  of  the  careless  and  uncultured,  need 
they  mind  what  these  would  say  ? ' 

"  Possibly  not ;  but  in  most  women's  hearts  there 
is  an  innate  love  of  adornment,  and  the  art  they 
will  not  relegate  very  willingly  to  others." 

"  I  did  not  think  you  cared  so  much  for  dress." 

"  You  and  Mr.  Winthrop  are  putting  the  strong- 
est temptations  in  my  way,  and  then  expect  that  I 
8.haU  calmly  turn  my  dazzled  eyes  inwards  upoa 


WORK. 

is  a  weariness  of 

dyspeptic.    But 
is  something  tiiat 

mo  to  Mr.  Win- 
id  be  a  sad  thing 

d  still  be  needed, 
ibout  what  would 
jctivo  customera ; 
le  of  that  special 
lieir  own  interior 

.   Utopia,   or  the 

ation  might  reach 

thouglit ;  but  the 

perhaps  of  raan- 

iks." 

vastly  better  than 
uncultured,  need 
?' 

men's  hearts  there 
,  and  the  art  they 
o  others." 
much  for  dress." 
lutting  the  strongs 
then  expect  that  I 
^es  inwards  upon 


NEIV  ACQUAINTANCES. 


140 


the  unfurnished,  empty  spaces  of  my  own  mind." 

"  You  seemed  to  care  almost  too  little  for  elegance 
of  attire,  I  thought." 

"  Wliat  the  eyes  do  not  see  the  heart  never  longs 
for.  But  glossy  velvets,  shimmering  silks,  with 
colors  perfected  from  the  tints  of  the  rainbow ; 
laces  that  are  a  marvel  of  fineness  and  beauty ;  and 
gems  that  might  dazzle  older  heads  than  mine, 
thrown  recklessly  in  my  way,  conld  any  young 
creature  fond  of  pretty  things  turn  away  from  them, 
with  the  indifference  of  a  wrinkled  pliilosopher? 
I  should  have  staid  at  Oaklands,  and  saved  my 
money  for  the  Mill  Road  folk." 

"  You  must  have  the  temptation,  if  you  are  to 
have  the  credit  of  overcoming  it." 

"  Is  there  not  a  wonderful  petition  left  for  us  by 
One  who  knows  all  things  ?  '  Lead  us  not  into 
temptation.' " 

"  I  do  not  think  this  is  a  parallel  case.  God's 
way  with  His  people,  ever  since  Eve  was  denied 
the  fruit  in  Eden,  has  been  to  prov(:  thera  by  temp- 
tation. His  promise  that  there  shah .  v/ith  the  temp- 
tation, be  a  way  of  escape,  is  whp.t  we  need  to 
claim." 

"  My  way  of  escape  will  be  to  go  back  to  Oaklands, 
where  an  occasional  tea  party  will  be  the  most 
dangerous  allurement  to  vanity  in  my  way." 

"  But  you  will  not  always  remain  there.  Mr. 
Winthrop  will  not  be  so  remiss  in  his  duty  as 

10 


■1^ 


Hi 


i«4„:>< 


/ 


146  MEDOLINE  SELWYN'S  WOTiK. 

your  guardian  as  to  bury  you  there.  Marriage, 
an(.'  a  judicious  settlement  in  life,  are  among  the 
probabilities  of  your  near  future." 

My  cheeks  crimsoned ;  for  marriage  was  one  of 
the  tabooed  subjects  of  conversation  at  Madame 
Buhlman's.  Only  in  the  solitude  of  our  own  rooms 
did  we  dare  to  converse  on  such  a  topic.  But  no 
doubt  we  wove  our  romances  as  industriously,  and 
dreamed  our  dreams  of  the  beautiful,  impossible 
future  stretching  beyond  our  dim  horizons,  as 
eagerly  as  if  we  had  been  commanded  to  spend  a 
certain  portion  of  each  day  in  its  contemplation. 

Mrs.  T^'laxman  noticed  my  embarrassment,  and, 
after  a  few  moments  said :—"  Perhaps  the  fairy 
prince  has  already  claimed  his  own." . 

I  laughed  lightly,  but  still  felt  ill  at  ease  as  I 
Bald:  •'  I  have  never  met  him,  and  begin  to  doubt 
if  he  has  an  existence." 

«  He  is  sure  to  come,  soon  or  late ;  probably  too 
Boon  to  please  me.  I  shall  miss  you  sadly  when 
you  go  away  from  us." 

I  knelt  beside  her  chair,  a  lump  gathering  la  ray 
throat,  and  my  slow  coming  tears  ready  to  drop. 

« I  do  not  know  why  you  should  miss  me,  but  it 
makes  me  so  glad  to  hear  you  say  so  I  have  no 
one  to  really  lovo  me  in  the  wide,  wide  world,  that 
is,  whose  love  I  can  claim  as  a  right,  and  sometimes 
the  thought  makes  me  desolate." 

She  sat  for  awhile  silently  stroking  my  hair. 


!  11 


5  WOUK. 

there.    Marriage, 
e,  are  among  the 

3." 

irriage  was  one  of 
sation  at  Madame 
le  of  our  own  rooms 
h  a  topic.     But  no 
i  industriously,  and 
jautiful,  impossible 
dim   horizons,  as 
imanded  to  spend  a 
ts  contemplation, 
mbarrassment,  and, 
"Perhaps  the  fairy 
own." . 

felt  ill  at  ease  as  I 
and  begin  to  doubt 

r  late ;  probably  too 
niss  you  sadly  when 

amp  gathering  ia  ray 
;ars  ready  to  drop, 
lould  miss  me,  but  it 
I  say  so.  I  have  no 
ride,  wide  world,  that 
right,  and  sometimes 

be." 

stroking  my  hair. 


1  '  1 


NEW  ACQUAINTANCES. 


147 


*'I  do  not  think  yours  will  be  a  desolr.te,  or 
lonely  life,  Medoline.  It  is  only  the  selfish  who  are 
punished  in  that  way.  The  blessing  of  those  about 
the  perish  will  overtake  you,  making  the  shadowy 
places  in  your  life  bright." 

"  But  there  are  no  perishing  ones  conveniently 
near  for  me  to  save.  I  am  of  little  more  use  in  the 
world  than  a  humming  bird." 

"  Already  some  of  the  Mill  Road  folk  have  been 
comforted  by  you,  You  remember  it  is  recorded 
of  the  Mary  of  Bethany  ;  '  She  hath  done  what  she 
could.'  For  that  act  of  gratitude  to  the  Master, 
her  memory  will  be  cherished  long  after  the  sun 
is  cold.  We  do  not  know  if  somewhere  all  our 
minutest  acts  of  unselfishness  are  not  recorded,  to 
be  met  with  one  day  with  glad  surprise  on  our 
part." 

♦'  I  would  rather  be  so  remembered,"  I  said  with 
eager  longing,  "  than  to  be  a  Cleopatra  or  Helen  of 
Troy." 

"In  what  way  is  that?"  Mr.  Winthrop  asked, 
as  he  stood  looking  down  at  me  from  behind  Mrs. 
Flaxman's  chair.  I  sprang  to  my  feet  in  consterna. 
tion.  "  We  did  not  hear  you  enter,"  I  faltered,  very 
much  ashamed  to  be  found  in  such  a  childish  at- 
titude. 

"  I  know  that,  since  I  woulu  not  have  been  just 
now  admitted  to  your  confidence." 

I  wheeled  him  up  an  arm  chair,  and  stirred  the 


1       I 


,J   ! 


h 


> , 


i  ! 

i' 


fc 


IN 


I 


? 


i 


H  MS 

I 

lit 


nii^ 


•jiiiii 


148  MKDOLINE  SELWTN'S  WORK. 

fire  very  industriously,  hoping  thereby  to  divert  his 

attention.      He  sat  down  quietly.    His  massive 

headhiid  back  against  the  rich,  darkleatlier  seemed 

to  bring  the  features  out  in  stronger  relief;  the  fire 

light  falling  uncertainly  on  his  face,  but  enabling 

me  to  note  distinctly  its  expectant  look.    I  went  to 

the  window  and  stood  for  soretinie  watching  the 

passers  by  in  the  street,  thinking  thus  to  pass  away 

the  time  until  Mr.  Winthrop  should  forget  to 

further  question  me  ;  but  he  suddenly  startled  me 

by  coming  towards  the  window  where  I  stood,  and 

sayings  „ 

"You  have  not  answered  my  question. 

"The    remark    was    only  im ended    for    Mrs. 

Flaxman's  ears,  and  was  of  no  irapprtance,  any 

way."  , 

"Mrs.  Flaxman  then  will  enlighten  me  as  to  the 
bent  of  your  ambition,"  he  said,  quite  too  author- 
itatively  for  my  liking,  and  turned  towards  her. 

"Our  conversation  drifted  to  personal  endeavor. 
We  were  talking  of  many  things,  when  Modoline, 
just  as  you  came  in,  expressed  the  wish  to  be  help- 
ful to  others  rather  than  to  shine  in  cold  and  stately 

splendor." 

«  Ah,  yes.  Cleopatra  and  Helen  of  Troy  were 
excellent  illustrations  of  the  splendor.  I  am  glad 
she  is  able  to  avail  herself  of  her  classical  studies 
in  conversation." 

I  looked  mutely  at  Mrs.  Flaxman,  but  she  was 


WRK. 

i-eby  to  divert  his 
f.  His  massive 
kleatlier  seemed 
er  relief;  the  fire 
ce,  but  enabling 
,look.  I  went  to 
ne  watching  the 
hus  to  pass  away 
jhould  forget  to 
lenly  startled  me 
rhere  I  stood,  and 

uestion." 

ended    for    Mrs. 
irapprtance,  any 

fhten  me  as  to  the 
quite  too  author- 
jd  towards  her. 
)ersonal  endeavor. 
,  when  Modoline, 
le  wish  to  be  help- 
in  cold  and  stately 

3len  of  Troy  were 
endor.  I  am  glad 
sr  classical  studies 

sman,  but  she  was 


NEW  ACQUAINTANCES. 


149 


gazing  intently  into  the  burning  coals,  with  a 
slight  fluLih  on  hev  face,  caused,  I  knew,  by  Mr. 
Winthrop's  words.  A  few  moments  after  I  glanced 
at  my  guardian.  His  eyes  were  closed,  the  lines 
of  his  face  looked  hard  and  stern.  I  wondered  if 
it  never  softened  even  in  sleep,  or  did  it  always 
wear  that  look  that  some  way  brought  to  my  mind 
the  old  Vikings  of  the  frozen  north. 

Mrs.  Flaxman  presently  arose  saying  it  was  time 
for  us  to  dress  for  the  concert.  Mr.  Winthrop 
looked  up  to  say  he  had  secured  us  an  escort,  and 
would  not  accompany  us. 

"  I  thought  you  particularly  admired  Beetho- 
ven's Ninth  Symphony,"  I  excl.aimed,  with  surprise. 

"  I  do  not  think  that  crowd  of  amateurs  will  do 
muc'^ :  although  Bovyer  gives  them  great  praise.  I 
would  as  soon  hear  th.at  Larkum  baby  crowing  as 
to  hear  such  a  n^asterpiece  mangled." 

"  Some  passages  will  be  well  rendered,  surely." 

"  What  matter,  if  one  is  all  the  time  dreading  a 
discord  ?  I  Shall  expect,  however,  a  full  account 
of  the  performance  from  you." 

"I  have  already  heard  this  symphony  rendered 
by  tl>e  court  musicians  in  Belgium.  I  had  no 
heart  to  practice  my  lessons  for  weeks  after." 

"  And  why  not  ?  " 

"  It  seemed  useless  for  mo  to  waste  time  or 
money  over  an  art  so  far  beyond  my  powers  to, 
master." 


i! 

1 1. 


LU 


,   .1 
If]  I 


•Hi 


iMiiii 


IBO  MEDOLINE  BELWYira  WOSS. 

His  face  softened,  while  he  arose  from  hia  chair 
and  came  a  few  steps  nearer  to  me. 

"Only  one  or  two  human  beings,  so  far  as  we 
know,  have  had  musical  powers  equal  to  Beethoven. 
Most  men  are  satisfied  W  they  can  perform  har- 
moniously his  creations." 

«I  could  never  do  that.  I  might  by  years  of 
hard  study  get  so  far  as  to  strike  the  correct  notes, 
bttt  the  soul  and  expression  would  elude  me,  simply 
because  I  have  not  brain  power  sufficient  to  com- 
prehend them.  A  thrush  would  be  foolish  to 
mulate  the  nightingale." 

"Yes  but  some  one  might  be  gladdened  by  its 
own  simple  note,"  he  said,  gently. 

I  was  silent,  while  his  words  sank  comfortably  in 

my  heart. 
,      Looking  up,  at  last,  I  caught  his  eye. 

"  I  will  try  to  be  satisfied  with  my  thrush's  note, 
and  make  the  best  of  it." 

"  That  is  right,  but  make  sure  that  you  are  not 
any  better  song  bird  than  the  thrush,  before  you 
rest  satisfied  wit)  its  simple  accomplishment." 

Very  earnestly  and  sincerely  I  promised  him  to 
do  my  best,  and  then  followed  Mrs.  Flaxman  from 
the  room.  Our  escort  proved  to  be  Mr.  Bovyer,  a 
grave  man,  not  so  young  as  Mr.  Winthrop,  and 
who  had  a  genuine  passion  for  classic  music.  I 
fancied  from  his  name  and  partiality  for  German 
composers  that  he  must  be  either  directly  or  re- 


OBK. 

I  from  his  chair 

gs,  so  far  as  we 
il  to  Beethoven. 
,n  perform  har- 


NEW  ACQUAINTANCSa. 


161 


»ht  by  years  of 
le  correct  notes, 
jlude  me,  simply 
ifficient  to  com- 
1  be  foolish  to 

gladdened  by  its 

k  comfortably  in 

13  eye. 

my  thrush's  note, 

that  you  are  not 
rush,  before  you 
nplishment." 
promised  him  to 
rs.  Flaxman  from 
be  Mr.  Bovyer,  a 
r.  Winthrop,  and 
classic  music.  I 
iality  for  German 
er  directly  or  re- 


motely of  Tuetonic  origin.  Beethoven  w«s  his 
great  favorite.  He  averred  that  the  latter  had 
penetrated  further  into  the  mysteries  of  music 
than  any  other  human  being.  He  seemed  trans- 
formed -  'hile  we  sat  listening  to  the  great  waves 
of  harmony  bewildering  our  senses ;  for,  notwith- 
standing Mr.  Winthrop's  prophecy,  the  concert 
was  a  success.  He  had  a  stolid  face.  One  might 
take  him. almost  for  a  retired,  well-to-do  butcher; 
but  when  the  air  was  pulsating  with  delicious 
sounds,  his  face  lighted  up  and  grew  positively 
handsome. 

"I  wonder  how  you  will  endure  the  music  of  the 
immortals,  that  God  listens  to,  if  you  get  with  the 
saved  by  and  bye?"  I  said,  impulsively. 

He  shook  his  head  doubtfully,  but  gave  me  at 
the  same  time  a  look  of  surprise. 

"  I  do  not  ask  for  anything  better  than  Beetho- 
ven," he  replied  quietly. 

Some  way  I  felt  saddened.  The  Creator  was  so 
much  beyond  the  highest  object  of  his  creative 
skill,  even  though  that  is  or  might  be  one  so  glori- 
ously endowed  as  Beethoven ;  it  seemed  strange 
that  a  thinking,  intellectual  being  would  grasp  the 
less  when  he  might  lay  hold  on  the  greater.  I 
glanced  around  on  the  gay,  richly-dressed  throng 
— pretty  women  in  garments  as  harmonious  in 
form  and  color  almost  as  the  music  that  was 
thrilling  at  least  some  of  us ;  some  of  them  fair 


^n 


J: : 


4^ 


■m  ■ 


V 


iiiiJ 


Will  II  mtriiiifiiHi' 


162 


MEDOLTNE  SELWTN'S  WORK. 


enough,  I  fancied,  to  be  walking  in  a  better  world 
than  ours ;  then,  by  some  strange  freak  of  the  im- 
agination, I  fell  to  thinking  of  the  poverty  and 
sorrow,  and  breaking  hearts  all  about  us,  until  the 
music  seemed  to  change  to  a  minor  chord ;  and 
away  back  of  all  other  sounds  I  seemed  to  hear  the 
sob  and  moan  of  the  dying  and  broken-hearted. 
Perhaps  some  new  chord  had  been  touched  in  my 
own  heart  that  had  never  before  responded  to 
human  things;  for  in  spite  of  myself  I  sat  and 
wept  with  a  full,  aching  heart.  I  tried  to  shield 
my  face  with  my  fan  and  at  last  regained  my  com- 
posure, and  tried,  in  sly  fashion,  to  diy  my  eyes 
with  the  bit  of  lace  I  called  my  handkerchief,  and 
which  I  found  a  very  poor  substitute  for  the  sub- 
stantial lawn  hitherto  used.  At  last  I  regained 
my  composure  sufficiently  to  look  up,  when  I  found 
Mr.  Bovyer  regarding  me  keenly.  He  glanced 
away,  but  after  that  his  manner  grew  sympathetic, 
and  on  our  way  home  he  said, 

"  I  am  glad  to  know  you  can  understand  great 
musical  conceptions." 

"  I  found  it  very,  very  sad.  I  scarce  ever  realized 
how  much  pain  there  might  be  in  this  world,  as 
for  a  little  while  I  did  to-night." 

"  The  tears  were  sorrowful  then,  and  not  glad  ?  " 
he  said,  gently. 

"  My  tears  are  always  that.  I  cannot  conceive  a 
joy  so  great  as  to  make  me  weep." 


^i^ti:'i;n.^v  ■ 


-.  ^i;-, '■.-'.  >\v5i^W 


1  a  better  world 
freak  of  the  im- 
he  poverty  and 
)ut  us,  until  the 
nor  chord ;  and 
med  to  hear  the 
broken-hearted. 
1  touched  in  my 
3  responded  to 
yself  I  sat  and 
tried  to  shield 
igained  my  com- 
to  diy  my  eyes 
indkerchief,  and 
ute  for  the  sub- 
last  I  regained 
ip,  when  I  found 
y.  He  glanced 
ew  sympathetic, 

nderstand  great 

rce  ever  realized 
1  this  world,  as 

and  not  glad  ?  " 

mnot  conceive  a 


NEW  ACQUAINTANCES. 


153 


-.irSei-'< 


"  Your  heart  ia  not  fully  wakened  yet,  some  day 
you  will  understand ;  but  be  thankful  you  can 
understand  a  part.  Not  many  at  your  age  feel  the 
master's  touch  so  keenly."  When  we  said  good- 
night, he  asked  permission  to  call  next  day.  I 
waited  for  Mrs.  Flaxman  to  reply,  and  turned  to 
her,  seeing  she  hesitated.  She  smiled  and  I  could 
see  answered  for  me. 

"We  shall  be  happy  to  see  you.  Mr.  Win- 
throp  receives  his  friends,  I  believe,  to-morrow 
evening."  As  we  went  to  our  rooms  she  said  : — 
"  Won't  it  be  wonderful  if  you  have  captivated 
Mr.  Bovyer's  heart? — I  am  sure  Mr.  Winthrop 
considered  him  a  safe  escort,  so  far  as  love  entan- 
glements were  concerned." 

"  That  old  man  thinking  of  love  !  He  looks  as 
if  he  thought  much  more  of  his  dinner  than  any- 
thing else." 

"  Probably  he  does  bestow  some  attention  on  it; 
but  he  is  not  old,  at  least  not  more  than  six  and 
thirty.  Beside  he  is  a  very  clever  man — a  musical 
critic  and  good  writer;  in  fact,  one  of  Mr. 
Winthrop's  most  intimate  friends." 

"  That,  I  presume,  speaks  volumes  in  bis  favor," 
I  said,  perhaps  with  a  touch  of  sarcasm  in  my  voice. 

"  Yes ;  Mr.  Winthrop  is  an  unerring  judge  of 
character ;  that  is,  of  late  years." 

"  Well,  I  would  neaily  as  soon  think  of  marry- 
ing Daniel  Blake  as  this  Mr.  Bovyer.    I  have 


i3. 


■jwmwn-ii    — 


154 


MEDOLINE  SELWYirs  WORK. 


never  been  in  love,  but  I  have  an  idea  what  it  is," 
I  said,  following  Mis.  Flaxniau  to  her  room. 

"  But  Mr.  Bovyer  might  teach  you.  Did  you 
ever    read    Shakespeare's     Midsummer    Night's 

Dream?" 

"  Oh,  yes ;  and  of  Titania  and  Bottom  of  course, 
but  that  was  only  a  dream — Mr.  Bovyer  is  a  very 
solid  reality.  But  I  must  not  stay  here  gossip- 
ing. Mr.  Winthrop  will  bo  waiting  for  my  de- 
scription of  the  TUislc." 

1  slipped  into  my  own  room  to  lay  aside  my 
wraps,  still  smiling  over  Mrs.  Flaxmau's  cliildish 
ideas  respecting  Mr.  Bovyer  in  the  r6le  of  a  iover, 
and  also  a  little  troubled  about  the  wording  of  the 
report  I  was  expected  to  give.    His  smile  would 
be  more  sarcastic  than  ever,  if  I  confessed  my  tears ; 
and,  alas,  I  had  but  little  other  impression  to 
convey  of  tlie  majestic  harmonies   than   one  of 
profound  sadness.    I  gknced  into  my  mirror  ;  the 
picture  reflected  back  startled  me.    In  the  hand- 
some gown,  with  the  same  gems  that  had  once 
enhanced  my  mother's  charms,  the  transformation 
T7rought  was  confjiderable ;    but   my  eyes    were 
shining  with  a  deep,  unusual  brilliancy,  and  a  new 
expression  caused  by  the  influences  of  the  evening 
Irnd  changed  m;^    face    almost  beyond  my  own 
recognition.     T  went  down  to  the  parlor  whrre  I 
found  Mr.  Winthrop  absorbed  in  his  book.  I  stood 
near  waiting  for  him  to  look,  but  he  remained 


-.vp,i(.a'^i>k.--iiv^'*'- 


'•1^1  111 


VORK. 

idea  what  it  is," 
her  room. 
I  you.    Did  you 
lummer    Night's 

Bottom  of  course, 
Bovver  is  a  very 
itiiy  here  gossip- 
ting  for  my  de- 

to  lay  aside  my 
axman's  cliildish 
le  rdle  of  a  iover, 
le  wording  of  the 
His  smile  would 
nf  essed  my  tears ; 
ler  impression  to 
lies   than   one  of 
3  my  mirror ;  the 
e.    In  the  hand- 
is  that  had  once 
le  transformation 
t  my  eyes    were 
liancy,  and  a  new 
jes  of  the  evening 

beyond  mv  own 
lie  parlor  whr-re  I 
I  his  book.  I  stood 

but  he  remained 


NEW  ACQUAINTANCES. 


1S6 


unconscious  of  my  presence.  I  went  to  the  fire- 
side. On  the  mantle  I  noticed,  for  the  first  time,  a 
bust  of  the  great  master  whose  music  had  just  been 
echoing  so  mournfully  in  my  ears.  I  took  it  in  my 
hand  and  went  .nearer  the  light,  soon  as  absorbed 
in  studying  the  indrawn  melancholy  face  as  was 
my  guardian  over  his  book.  When  I  looked  at 
him  his  book  was  closed,  and  liis  eyes  regarding 
me  attentively.  ,, 

"  Do  you  recognize  the  face  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes.    I  wonder  he  looks  like  other  men." 

"Why  should  he  look  differently  ?  " 

"  Because  he  was  different.  I  wonder  what  his 
thoughts  were  when  he  was  writing  that  syra- 
phony  ?  "    I  held  the  bust  off  reflectively. 

"  Did  you  enjoy  your  evening's  entertainment  ?  " 

"  Yes  and  no, — I  wish  you  had  been  there, 
Mr.  Winthrop.  Please  don't  ask  me  to  describe 
it." 

"  I  will  get  sti  description  of  how  you  received  it 
then  from  Bovyer — he  could  tell  me  better  than  you. 
He  rends  faces  so  well,  I  sometimes  have  a  fear  he 
sees  too  far  beneath  our  mask.'' 

"  I  don't  want  to  see  him  any  more  then,"  I  said 
impetuously. 

"Why  not?" 

'■  I  do  not  want  my  soul  to  be  scrutinized  by 
strange  eyes,  any  more  than  you  do,  Mr.  Winthrop." 

"  How  do  you  know  that  I  object  ?  " 


!      i 


V 


^:.:.'rjw«Mii«iiiji»  "11  umtfT* 


156 


MEDOLINE  SBLWYN'S  WOnK. 


ii 


§ 


•'  Did  you  not  say  just  now  you  had  a  fear  he 
saw  too  deeply  into  us  ?  " 

"  Possibly.  I  was  speaking  in  a  general  way- 
meant  humanity  at  large,  rather  than  my  own 
individual  self." 

"  Would  you  care  if  I  could  see  all  the  thoughts 
and  secrets  of  vour  soul  just  at  this  moment,  Mr. 
Winthrop?"  I  said,  taking  a  step  nearer,  and 
looking  intently  into  his  eyes,  which  returned  my 
look  with  one  equally  ponotrating. 

"No,  Medoline.  You,  least  of  any  one  I 
know,"  he  said,  quietly.  I  looked  at  him  with 
surprise — perhaps  a  trifle  grieved. 

"Does  that  offend  you?"  he  asked  after  a 
pause. 

"  It  wounds  me ;  for  I  am  your  friend." 
"  I  am  glad  of  that,  little  one." 
"  Glad  that  you  have  given  me  pain  ?  "    I  asked, 
with  an  odd  feeling  as  if  I  wanted  to  burst  into 
a  fit  of  childish  weeping. 

He  left  his  chair  and  came  to  ray  side. 
"  \^'hy  do  you  look  so  sorrowful,  Medoline  ?    I 
meant  that  it  gave  me  pleasure  that  you  were  my 
friend.    I  'lid  not  think  that  you  cared  for  me." 

"  I  am  surprised  at  myself  for  caring  so  much 
for  you  when  you  are  so  hard  on  me.  I  suppose 
it  is  because  you  are  my  guardian,  and  I  have  no 
one  else,  scarcely,  to  love."  I  was  beginning  to 
think  I  must  either  escape  hastily  to  my  room,  or 


1 


^^hy^ 


WORK, 
yon  had  a  fear  he 

a  general  way — 
er  than  my   own 

e  all  the  thoughts 
this  moment,  Mr. 
step  nearer,  and 
hich  returned  my 
[ig. 

t    of    any    one   I 
)ked  at  him  with 
i. 
le    asked   after  a 

ir  friend." 

Spain?"    Tasked, 
ited  to  burst  into 

my  side. 

ful,  Medoline?  I 
that  you  were  my 
u  cared  for  me. 
or  caring  so  much 
on  me.  I  suppose 
Ian,  and  I  have  no 
was  beginning  to 
bily  to  my  room,  or 


1 


NEW  AdiUAINTANCES. 


laz 


apply  the  bit  of  cobweb  lace  once  more  to  my  eyes, 
which,  if  I  could  judge  from  my  feelings,  would 
soon  be  saturated  with  my  tears. 

"  I  did  not  think  I  was  hard  on  you,"  he  said, 
gently.  "  I  have  been  afraid  lest  I  w  a  humoring 
your  whims  too  much ;  but  unselfishness,  and 
thought  for  the  poor,  have  been  such  rare  traits  in 
the  characteristics  of  my  friends,  I  have  not  had 
a  heart  hard  enough  to  interfere  with  your 
instincts." 

Here  was  an  entirely  new  revelation  to  me ;  I 
bethought  me  of  Mrs.  Flaxman's  remark  a  short 
time  before,  and  repeated  it  to  him. 

"  I  do  not  think  I  shall  ever  have  paternal  feel- 
ings towards  you,  Medoline,  I  am  not  old  enough 
for  that.  Tell  Mrs.  Flaxman,  if  she  speaks  that 
way  again,  I  am  not  anxious"*  for  lier  to  fasten  in 
your  heart  filial  affection  for  me." 

"  But  we  may  be  just  as  much  to  each  other  as  if 
you  were  my  own  father?"  I  pleaded. 

"  Quite  as  much,"  he  said,  with  emphasis.  I 
forgot  my  tears ;  for  some  way  my  heart  had  got  so 
strangely  light  and  glad,  tears  seemed  an  unnec- 
essary incumbrance  ;  and  even  the  thought  that 
had  been  awaked  by  the  disturbing  harmonies  of 
Beethoven's  majestic  conceptions  were  folded 
peacefully  away  in  their  still  depths  again. 


n 


i ' 


;   \ 

■i  ' 


1  ■ 


I  I 

1 


II 


,   ?' 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


ALONE  WITH  HI8  DEAD. 


fi|i 


At  breakfast  Mr.  Winthrop  was  moi  o  insistent 
in  his  curiosity  about  the  concert  of  the  previous 
evening.  Mra.  Flaxman  assured  him  that  we  were 
all  agreeably  disappointed  in  our  evening's  enter- 
tainment. 

•*  Mr.  Bovyer  was  especially  charmed  with 
Medoline's  appreciation  of  his  favorite  composer. 
He  asked  permission  to  call  on  her  to-day." 

He  gave  me  a  keen  glance,  saying :  "  I  hope 
you  did  not  grow  too  enthusiastic.  One  need  not 
hang  out  a  placard  to  prove  we  can  comprehend 
the  intricate  and  profound." 

Mrs.  Flaxman  answered  hastily  for  me. 

"  No,  indeed ;  she  was  too  quiet ;  and  only  Mr. 
Bonyer  and  myself  detected  the  tears  dropping  be- 
hind her  fan.  But  Mr.  Bovyer  seemed  gratified  at 
the  meaning  he  read  from  them." 


l'^'\^1 


ALONE  nnn  nis  dead. 


160 


[I. 

>EAD. 

as  moio  insistent 

t  of  the  previous 

him  that  we  were 

V  evening's  enter- 

y  charmed  with 
avorite  composer. 
ler  to-day." 
raying :  "  I  hope 
c.  One  need  not 
can  comprehend 

y  for  me. 
iet ;  and  only  Mr. 
tears  dropping  be- 
eemed  gratified  at 


My  face  was  burning  ;  but  after  a  few  seconds' 
silence  I  stole  a  glance  at  Mr.  Wintlirop.     He  was 
apparently   absorbed  in  his  breakfast,  and  Beet- 
hoven's Symphonies  were  not  mentioned  in  his  pres- 
ence until  evening,  wlien  Mr.  Bovyer,  true  to  his 
appointment,  sat  chatting  for  two  or  three  hours 
with  Mr.   Wintlirop   and   his   other   guests.     As 
usual,  I  sat  a  silent  listener,  comprehending  readily 
a  good  many  tilings  that  wore  said ;  but  some  of 
the  conversation  took  me  quite  beyond  my  depth. 
I  found  Mr.  Bovyer  could  grow  eloquent  over  his 
favorite  topics,  which,  from  his  plilcgmatic  appear- 
ance, surprised  me.    He  seemed   thoroughly  ac- 
quainted with  other  subjects  than  music,  and  I 
noticed  that  even  Mr.  Wintlirop  listened  to  his 
remarks    with    deference.      Before    the    evening 
closed  Mr.  Winthrop  asked  him  for  some  music. 
He  complied  so  readily  that  I  fell  to  contrasting 
his  unaffected  manner  with  that  of  lady  musicians 
who,  as  a  rule,  take  so  much  coaxing  to  gratify 
their  friends' desire  for  music,  and  their  own  vanity 
at  the  same  time.     I  noticed  Mr.  Winthrop  settling 
back  into  his  favorite  position  in  his  arm-chair — 
his  head  thrown   back  and  eyes  closed.      Mrs. 
Flaxraan  took  up  her  fan  and  held  it  as  if  shielding 
her  eyes  from  the  light.    T  discovered  afterward  it 
was  merely  a  pretext  to  conceal  the  emotion  Mr. 
Bovyer  usually  awakened  when  she  listened  to  his 
ipusior 


I    ; 


11 


H 


i  * 


,i 


ri 


1  I 


w 


.rt«*«S«'!J53tvsa«»tt»WPW^    .    -r„'nSBK'.'^^/^'«v.-t^.>wr^i 


160 


MEDOLINE  SEL  WYN'S  WOSZk. 


His  first  touch  on  the  piano  arrested  me,  and  I 
turned  around  to  watch  his  face.  I  recognized  the 
air — the  opening  passage  from  Haydjjii's  Creation. 
I  was  soon  spellbound,  as  were  all  the  rest.  Mrs. 
Flaxman  laid  down  her  fan  ;  there  were  no  melting 
passages  to  bring  tears  in  this  symphony,  descriptive 
of  primeval  darkness,  and  confusion  of  the  elements, 
the  evil  spirits  hurrying  away  from  the  glad,  new 
light  into  their*  native  regions  of  eternal  night — 
the  thunder  and  storm  -.nd  elemental  terrors. 
Presently  I  turned  to  Mr.  Winthrop.  He  was  sit- 
ting orect  in  his  chair,  his  eyes  no  longer  closed  in 
languorous  enjoyment;  when  suddenly  the  meas- 
ure changed  to  that  delicious  passage  descriptive 
of  the  creation  ci;  birds.  Mr.  Bovyer's  voice  was 
a  trifle  too  deep  and  powerful  for  the  air,  but  it 
was  sympathetic  and  rarely  musical. 

He  ended  as  abruptly  as  he  began  and  glided  off 
into  one  of  those  old  English  glees, — "  Hail,  Smil- 
ing Morn." 

Presently  turning  around  he  asked :  ♦'  Are  you 
tired?" 

"  We  have  failed  to  take  note  of  the  flight  of 
time ;  pray  go  on,"  Mr.  Winthrop  urged. 

"  What  do  you  say.  Miss  Selwyne  ?  " 

"  I  would  like  if  you  could  make  Mr.  Winthrop 
cry.  If  you  tried  very  hard,  you  might  touch  his 
fountain  of  tears." 

"  Bravo  I    I  will  trv,"  ho  exclaiuod  amid  thp 


8  WORK. 

arrested  me,  and  I 
e.  I  recognized  the 
Haydjjii's  Creation, 
all  the  rest.  Mrs. 
ere  were  no  melting 
nphony,  descriptive 
sion  of  the  elements, 
from  the  glad,  new 
.  of  eternal  night — 

elemental  terrors, 
throp.  He  was  sit- 
no  longer  closed  in 
suddenly  the  meas- 
passage  descriptive 
Bovyer's  voice  was 

for  the  air,  but  it 
sical. 

tegan  and  glided  off 
i'lees, — "  Hail,  Smil- 

asked :     ♦'  Are  you 

•te  of  the  flight  of 

•op  urged. 

wyne  ? " 

nake  Mr.  Winthrop 

ou  might  touch  his 

ixclaiued  amid  ihp 


aLOne  with  bis  dead. 


161 


general  laugh.  He  touched  the  keys,  and  then 
pausing  a  moment,  left  the  instrument. 

"I  am  not  in  the  mood  to-night  for  such  a 
difficult  task.  I  may  make  the  attempt  some 
stormy  winter's  night  at  Ouklands.  I  believe  I 
have  a  standing  invitation  there,"  he  said,  joining 
us  around  the  fire. 

Mr.  Winthrop  threw  me  an  amazed  look,  but 
instantly  recovering  himself  he  said  heartily  : — 
"  The  invitatiOi.  holds  good  during  the  term  of  our 
natural  lives.  The  sooner  it  is  accepted  the  more 
delighted  we  shall  le." 

Mr.  Bovyer  bowed  his  thanks,  and  coming  to  my 
side  asked  if  I  would  care  to  attend  another  con- 
cert the  following  evening. 

"  It  depends  on  what  the  music  is  to  be.  I  am  not 
so  sensitive  as  Mr.  "Winthrop  to  a  few  false  notes 
now  and  then.  TIic  composer  has  more  power  to 
give  me  pain  than  the  performers,  I  believe." 

"  I  should  say,  then,  tliat  your  comprehension  of 
music  was  more  subtle  than  his." 

"  I  do  not  pretend  to  compare  myself  with  Mr. 
Winthrop  in  any  way.  It  would  be  like  the  rain- 
now  claiming  fellowship  with  the  leviathan." 

Mr.  Winthrop  suggested  very  politely  : — 

"  Humility  is  bocoming  until  it  grows  abject." 

"  Your  guardian  is  an  incorrigible  bachelor. 
Ladies  do  not  get  tlie  slightest  mercy  from  him," 
Mr.  Bovyer  remarked. 


'B  ■:  i 


'']  I  'ii 


i 


ill 

5 


I 


! 


'-} 


u 


%J.'* 


162 


MEDOLINE  SELWYN'S  WORK. 


"  I  have  ceased  to  look  for  any,"  I  said,  with  an 
evenness  of  voice  that  surprised  me. 

"  I  am  glad  to  find  myself  in  such  good  com- 
pany," Mr.  Winthrop  said,  with  a  graceful  bend 
of  the  head,  which  included  each  of  his  guests  in 
the  list  of  single  blessed  ones. 

"Are  you  all  going  to  be  old  bachelors?"  I 
asked,  forgetting  myself  in  the  surprise  of  the 

moment. 

"I  am  not  aware  that  we  are  all  irrevocably 
committed  to  that  terrible  fate,"  Mr.  Bovyer  said, 
as  he  united  in  the  general  smile  at  m)  expense. 

"  It  might  be  more  terrible  for  some  of  your 
wives  than  if  you  remained  single.  I  think  some 
persons  are  fore-ordained  to  live  single."  I  looked 
steadily  in  the  fire  lest  my  eyes  might  betray  too 

much. 

"  Do  you  imagine  those  blighted  lives  are  con- 
fined solely  to  one  sex  ?  "  Mr.  Winthrop  bhindly 
inquired. 

"  Oh,  no  ;  nature  does  not  confine  her  oddities 
to  one  sex ;  but  a  woman  can  better  conceal  the 
lack  of  a  human  heart  and  sympathies." 

"  You  mean  they  are  better  actresses  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  think  so." 

♦'  1  must  tell  you,  gentlemen,  this  little  ward  of 
mine  is  a  natural  philanthropist.  You  would  he 
amazed  to  see  how  she  sympathizes  with  widows 
and  the  b  i  .iken-hearted  of  both  sexes.    I  have  been 


Ii'l  I'kl 


,^^i'?« 


WORK. 

r,"  I  said,  with  an 

me. 

I  such  govid  com- 

i  a  graceful  bend 

ii  of  his  guests  in 

Id  bachelors?"  I 
3  surprise  of  the 

,re  all  irrevocably 
Mr.  Bovyer  said, 
J  at  m)  expense, 
for  some  of  your 
le.  I  think  some 
single."  I  looked 
might  betray  too 

bted  lives  are  con- 
Winthrop  blandly 

)nfine  her  oddities 
better  conceal  the 
pathies." 
pCtresses  ?  " 

this  little  ward  of 
at.  You  would  he 
hizes  with  widows 
sexes.    I  have  beeu 


ALONE  WITH  UIS  DEAD. 


163 


forced  to  limit  her  charities  to  a  certain  yearly 
amount  lest  her  husband  may  one  day  call  me  to 
account  for  her  wasted  means." 

"It  is  the  most  beautiful  trait  in  womankind." 
Mr.  Bovyer  responded,  heartily,  just  as  a  passionate 
retort  liad  sprung  to  my  lips.  Thg  second's  inter- 
ruption gave  me  time  to  regain  my  self-control ; 
but  the  color  flamed  over  brow  and  cheek  as  I 
rose  and  walked  to  the  farther  end  of  the  room 
and  stood  turning  over  the  leaves  of  a  book  lying 
on  the  table.  I  could  still  hear  what  was  said  and 
was  surprised  that  Mr.  Winthrop  turned  the  con- 
versation so  cleverly  into  other  channels.  It  was 
growing  late,  and  before  long  the  guests  retired. 
Mr.  Bovyer,  as  he  siiook  hands  with  me,  said : 
"You  have  not  answered  my  question  yet.  Will 
you  come  to  the  Philharmonic  to-morrow  evening  ?  " 

I  looked  to  Mr.  Winthrop  for  a  reply. 

"  I  think  you  must  deny  yourself  that  pleasure, 
as  we  shall  probably  go  home  to-morrow." 

"  So  soon  ?  "     I  asked  with  surprise. 

"The  time  I  limited  myself  to  expired  yesterday. 
We  can  return  this  winter,  and  complete  any  un- 
finished business  or  pleasure  that  you  now  leave 
undone." 

"  My  business  is  finished.  It  happens  to  be  a 
pleasure  to  return  to  Oaklands." 

I  murmured  my  thanks  to  Mr.  Bovyer,  and 
withdrew  the  liand  he  was  still  holding. 


'  ii 


■r 


y ; 


't& 


^m 


yyiK^ 


i'i* 


164 


MEDOLINE  SELWrira  WORK. 


When  we  were  at  last  alone,  Mrs.  Flaxinan  drew 
lier  chair  near  the  fire  and  settling  back  comfort- 
ably as  if  she  were  in  no  hurry  to  retire,  said  very 
seriously : — "  This  is  unexpected — our  going  home 
to-morrow." 

"  I  am  afraid  Bovyer  is  about  making  an  ass  of 
himself.  Strange  what  weaknesses  come  over 
strong  men  sometimes  I  He  was  the  last  I  should 
have  expected  such  a  thing  from,"  Mr.  Winthrop 
said. 

"Was  it  fear  of  this  that  sends  you  home  so 
abruptly  ?  "  Mrs.  Flaxman  askedj  with  a  look  of 
amusement. 

"One  reason." 

"  He  would  be  a  very  good  parti ;  only  a  little 
too  old,  perhaps." 

"  What  are  you  thinking  of  ?  I  shall  not  let 
that  child  get  entangled  for  years."  He  said, 
almost  angrily. 

"  What  has  Mr.  Bovyer  done  ?  "  I  inquired,  a 
good  deal  mystified. 

"  You  are  too  young  to  have  everything  ex- 
plained. I  want  3'ou  to  keep  your  child's  heart 
for  a  good  many  years  yet." 

"  What  a  pity  young  people  cannot  keep  the 
child's  heart  until  they  get  some  good  out  of  life. 
Not  begin  ac  once  with  its  storms  and  passions," 
Mrs.  Flaxman  remarked,  in  a  moralizing  tone. 

"Do  you  mean  falling  in  love,  Mrs.  Flaxman?" 


'ORK. 

i.  Flaxinan  drew 
y  back  comfort- 
retire,  said  very 
■our  going  home 

laking  an  ass  of 

ses    come    over 

/he  last  I  should 

Mr.  Winthrop 

ds  you  home  so 
V  with  a  look  of 


ti;  only  a  little 

I  shall  not  let 
ears."     He  said, 

"    I  inquired,  a 

everything  ex- 
3ur  child's  heart 

cannot  keep  the 
good  out  of  life, 
ns  and  passions," 
i-alizing  tone. 
Mrs.  Flaxman?" 


ALONE  WITH  HIS  DEAD. 


165 


"  Possibly  that  was  what  I  meant,  but  it  is  to  be 
a  tabooed  topic  with  you  for  some  yeai-s  yet,  Mr. 
Winthrop  decides." 

*'  You  have  been  unusually  fortunate  in  that  re- 
spect, Mr.  "Winthrop.  I  used  to  think  every  one 
fell  in  love  before  they  came  to  your  age."  Mrs. 
Flaxman  glanced  at  him  with  a  pained,  startled  look 
wtiich  I  did  not  understand.  I  noticed  that  his 
face  though  grave  was  unruffled;  but  he  made 
me  no  reply. 

I  could  not  explain  ihe  reason,  but  I  felt  grieved 
that  I  had  made  the  remark,  [and  slipped  quietly 
out  of  the  room  without  my  usual  good-night. 

The  next  day  we  left  for  home.  Mr.  Winthrop 
was  not  fortunate  in  meeting  friends ;  so  he  sat 
beside  us.  I  would  have  preferred  being  alone 
with  Mrs.  Flaxman,  without  the  restiint  of  his 
society.  We  had  not  been  able  on  that  train  to 
secure  a  parlor  car,  for  which  I  was  very  glad. 
There  seemed  more  variety  and  wider  types  of  hu- 
manity in  the  plainer  car,  and  I  liked  to  study  the 
different  groups  and  indulge  in  my  dreams  con- 
cerning them.  My  attention  was  suddenly  attract- 
ed, at  a  station  we  were  approaching,  by  a  hearse 
and  funeral  procession  apparently  waiting  for  us. 
The  cars  moving  along  presently  hid  them  from  my 
view,  and  my  attention  was  suddenly  distracted 
from  this  melancholy  spectacle  by  the  unusual  cir- 
cumstance of  a  man  coming  alone  into   the  car 


\4 


u,u. 


166  MEDOLINE  SELWYN'S  WORK. 

with  an  infant  in  his  arms.  The  cars  scarcely 
paused,  and  while  I  watched  to  see  the  mother 
following  her  haby  the  brakeman  came  in  with 
an  armfuU  of  shawls,  satchels,  and  baskets.  The 
baby  soon  began  to  cry;  when  it  was  pitiful  to 
watch  the  poor  fellow's  futile  efforts  to  hush  its 
wailings,  while  he  tossed  over  the  parcels  ai)par- 
ently  in  search  of  something ;  but  the  baby's  cries 
continued  to  increase  in  volume,  and  the  missing 
article,  whatever  it  was,  refused  to  turn  up. 

Mr.  Winthrop  cast  a  look  on  it  that  might  have 
annihilated  a  much  stronger  specimen  of  humanity; 
but  the  father,  as  I  supposed  him  to  be,  intercepted 
the  wrathful  gaze,  and  his  face,  already  sorrowful 
looking,  became  more  distressed  than  evor. 

I  waited  impatiently  for  some  older  woman  to 
go  to  his  relief ;  but  men  and  women  alike  seemed 
to  regard  tlie  little  waif  with  displeasure ;  so  at 
last  slipping  swiftly  out  of  my  seat  lest  Mr.  Win- 
throp might  intercept  me,  I  went  straight  to  the 
poor  fellow's  relief. 

"What  is  the  matter  with  the  baby?"  I  asked, 
as  sympathetically  as  I  could. 

"  He  is  hungry,  and  they  have  taken  his  food 
by  mistake,  I  am  afraid,  to  the  baggage  car." 
♦'  May  I  take  care  of  him  while  you  go  for  it?" 
"  If  you  only  would,  I  would  be  so  grateful." 
I  sat  down  and  he  put  the  bit  of  vocality  in  my 
arms,  and  then  hastened  after  its  dinner.  I  glanced 


'^i2^!^"'~ 


VOBK. 

.0  cars  scarcely 
see  the  mother 
[1  came  in  with 
il  baskets.  The 
it  was  pitiful  to 
forts  to  hush  its 
e  parcels  aijpar- 
,  the  baby's  cries 
and  the  missing 
D  turn  up. 

tliat  might  have 
Qen  of  humanity ; 
:o  be, intercepted 
ilready  sorrowful 
han  evor. 

older  woman  to 
nen  alike  seemed 
ispleasure;  so  at 
at  lest  Mr.  Win- 
it  straight  to  the 

baby?"  I  asked, 

e  taken  his  food 
iggage  car." 
3  you  go  for  it?" 
)e  so  grateful." 
of  vocality  in  my 
dinner.  I  glanced 


if-'iyh. 


ALONE  yyiTU  UIS  DEAD. 


167 


towards  Mr.  Winthrop.    I  fancied  that  his  face  ex- 
pressed volumes  of  shocked  proprieties ;  so  I  quickly 
withdrew  my  gaze,  since  it  was  not  at  all  comfort- 
ing, and  devoted  myself  exclusively  to  the  poor 
little  baby.  Its  clothing  had  got  all  awry,  los  hands 
were  blue  with  cold,  and  the  tears  from  its  pretty, 
blurred  eyes  were  running  in  a  copious  stream.    I 
dried  its  face,  took  off  its  cap  and  cloak,  and  got  its 
garments  nicely  straightened  out,  and  then  to  com- 
plete tbe  cure,  for  want  of  something  better,  gave 
it  my  long  suffering  watch  to  nibble.    The  little 
creature  may  have  recognized  the  soothing  effect 
of  a  woman's  hands,  or  it  may  have  been  the  bright 
tick,  tick  which  it  was  gazing  at  now  with  pleased 
expression,  and  with  its  untutored  tongue  was 
already  trying  to  imitate.    What  the  cause  waa 
I  could  not  say;  but  when  the  father  returned, 
silence  reigned  in  the  car  so  far  as  his  offspring 
was  concerned.    His  face  brightened  perceptibly. 
"  It  does  seem  as  if  a  baby  knew  a  woman's  touch," 
he  said,  with  such  a  sigh  of  relief. 

"  They  know  when  their  clothes  are  comfortable 
and  their  hands  warm." 

"  His  mother  always  attended  to  him.   He  and  I 
were  only  playfellows. 

"  Where  is  his  mother  now?  "  I  asked,  no  longer 
able  to  restrain  my  curiosity. 

"  In  the  freight  room."  His  eyes  filled  with  tears. 


L 


«S        I' 


I  u 


M 


J,. 

L 
J 

•I 


m 


t 


!  ^ 


\"Mn 


Hi 


il! 


168  MEDOLINE  HELWYN'S  WORK. 

"  W^t>  it  hi  I- coffin  I  saw  in  the  he.'.rto  awhile 


HgO?" 


■'^ Ok  i  K-'Vi  no  sorry;"  and  I  too  burst  into  tears. 
He  busied  his  M  getting  a  spirit  lamp  lighted,  and 
soon  the  baby's  milk  was  simmering,  and  almost 
before  good  humor  had  been  restored  throughout 
the  car  the  baby  had  comfortably  dined,  and  gone 
off  into  a  refreshing  slumber.  I  made  him  a  snug 
little  bed  out  of  rug;}  and  shawls,  and  laid  him 
down  in  blissful  unconsciousness  of  the  cold,  still 
form,  even  more  unconscious  than  he,  in  the  adjoin- 
ing freight  room. 

The  passengers  as  well  as  Mr.  Wintlirop  liad 
been  watching  me  curiously,  and  my  sudden  buret 
of  tears  had  mystified  them. 
,  Once  the  baby  was  nicely  settled  to  its  nap  I 
returned  to  my  seat.  Mis.  Flaxman  eagerly  asked 
why  there  was  no  wcinan  to  look  after  the  baby. 
I  saw  Mr.  Winthrop  listening,  as  if  interested  also 
in  the  strange  phenomenon  of  a  man  in  attendance 
alone  on  an  infant. 

"  The  mother  is  in  the  freight  room." 

"What?  "  Mrs.  Flaxman  asked,  looking  a  trifle 
alarmed.  ,        ?  • 

"She  is  in  her  coffin."  My  lip  trembled,  and 
with  difficulty  I  restrained  my  tears  once  more. 

"  How  dreadful ! "  she  murmured,  and  presently 
I  saw  her  wiping  away  her  own  tears. 


VOIili. 


10  he.'.rte  awhile 


burst  into  tears, 
amp  lighted,  and 
ring,  and  almost 
lOred  throughout 
dined,  and  gone 
nade  him  a  snug 
Is,  and  laid  him 
of  the  cold,  still 
he,  in  the  adjoin- 

r.  Winthrop  liad 
my  sudden  burst 

led  to  its  nap  I 
an  eagerly  asked 
t  after  the  baby, 
if  interested  also 
lan  in  attendance 

oom." 

i,  looking  a  trifle 

ip  trembled,  and 
irs  once  more. 
;d,  and  presently 
3ars. 


ALONE  WITH  HIS  DK.iD. 


169 


•' And  y^a  were  the  only  one  brave  enough  to 
go  to  him  in  his  trouble.  Medoline,  1  am  proud  of 
you,  but  ashamed  of  myself." 

"I  couldn't  help  going;  he  looked  so  distressed, 
and  I  could  see  he  wasn't  fit  to  look  after  the  baby. 
Men  are  so  useless  about  such  things,"  I  said,  giv- 
ing Mr.  Winthrop  a  humorous  glance. 

"Another  case  of  widowers,"  Mr.  Winthrop 
whispered,  as  he  bent  his  head  near  to  mine ;  but 
I  saw  that  he  too  was  not  unmoved,  and  the  look 
he  bestowed  upon  me  wus  equal  to  a  caress. 

"  I  am  going  to  speak  to  that  poor  man  myself." 
Mrs.  Flaxmau  said  very  energetically,  after  she 
had  got  her  eyes  dried. 

She  went,  but  very  soon  I  saw  her  handkerchief 
in  active  service  again.  They  sat  chatting  a  long 
time,  while  all  the  passenger.;  seemed  to  have  a 
growing  interest  in  their  fellow  traveller  and  his 
little  cliarge.  The  latter  wakened  while  Mrs.  Flax- 
man  was  still  lingering  beside  the  bereaved  father. 
It  cried  at  first;  but  she  soon  got  him  so  comfort- 
able and  content,  that  he  was  laughing  and  cooing 
into  the  wintry  looking  faces  of  his  father  and  new 
nurse.  I  wanted  to  have  the  dear  little  fellow  in 
my  own  arms,  he  had  such  a  bright,  intelligent 
face,  and  his  smile  was  so  sunny  ;  but  I  could  not 
muster  courage  to  go  and  ask  for  him. 

Mrs.  Flaxman  probably  noticed  my  wistful  look, 
for  she  presently  returned  to  her  own  seat  bring- 


m 


ifjih 


-'<8IWPlw*"^'W 


iii 


if 


Lii'l! 


170 


MKUOLINE  SELWrys  WOllK. 


ing  him  with  her.  Slio  h;id  scarcely  loft  the 
fiithcr'8  side  when  a  white-haired,  kii.dly-fuced  old 
gentleman  at  the  farther  end  of  the  car  got  npand 
came  stumbling  along,  and  took  a  seat  beside  him. 
The  poor  fellow  winced.  He  shrank,  no  doubt, 
from  opening  his  wound  afresh  for  another  stranger 
to  probe.  But  there  was  something  so  sympathetic 
in  the  old  man's  face,  and  the  heurty  shake  of  the 
hand  that  he  gave  without  even  sjjeaking,  that  I 
concluded  he  would  do  more  good  than  harm. 
After  sitting  a  little  while  in  silence,  I  overheard 
him  telling  how  he  had  heard  of  his  trouble 
through  the  conductor.  I  had  not  asked  him  any- 
thing about  his  wife's  death,  that  seemed  a  grief 
too  sacred  to  explain  to  a  perfect  stranger ;  but  ho 
had  told  Mrs.  Flaxman  all,  and  I  sat  listening 
with  a  strong  desire  to  cry  while  she  repeated  the 
story  to  us. 

"  His  wife  died  very  suddenly,"  she  said,  "  and 
they  were  all  strangers  where  they  lived;  but 
every  one,  he  said,  was  so  kind.  He  is  taking  his 
baby  home  to  his  mother.  They  live  a  little  way 
out  of  Cavendish.  He  said  he  knew  us  ;  and  was 
never  so  surprised  at  anything  in  his  life  as  when 
a  beautiful  young  lady,  like  you,  traveling,  too, 
with  Mr.  Winthrop,  came  and  took  his  baby. 
Everybody  was  looking  so  crossly  at  the  baby,  he 
had  just  begun  to  feel  as  if  there  was  no  sympathy 
for  him  in  all  this  world  full  of  strangers  j  but, 


h 


"iTlLji 


VOliK. 

arcely  loft  tlio 
kii.dly-fuced  old 
le  car  got  up  and 
seat  beside  liini. 
rank,  uo  doubt, 
another  stranger 
g  so  sympathetic 
rty  shake  of  the 
S2)eaking,  that  I 
;ood  than  harm, 
ice,  I  overheard 
of  his  trouble 
;  asked  him  any- 
t  seemed  a  grief 
stranger ;  but  ho 
.  I  sat  listening 
she  repeated  the 

'  she  said,  "  and 
they  lived;  but 
He  is  taking  his 
live  a  little  way 
lew  us  ;  and  was 
1  his  life  as  when 
u,  traveling,  too, 
took  his  baby. 
■f  at  the  baby,  he 
was  no  sympathy 
:  strangers;  but. 


ALONE  WITH  Uim  DEAD. 


171 


when  you  came,  there  was  a  great  load  taken  off 
his  heart.  I  niean  after  this  to  be  more  on  tho 
watch  to  help  others." 

"  Why,  Mrs.  Flaxraan,  I  thought  that  was  one 
of  your  strongest  characteristics." 

"  Don't  ever  say  such  a  thing  to  me  again,  when 
if  it  had  not  been  for  a  tender-hearted  child,  with  the 
ver>-  poorest  possible  opinion  of  herself,  we  might 
have,  amongst  us,  finished  breaking  that  poor  fel- 
low's heart." 

"  You  will  make  her  vain  if  you  continue 
praising  her  so  much,"  Mr.  Winthrop  remon- 
stmted. 

"  She  has  not  a  natural  tendency  that  way,  and 
we  have  not  helped  to  foster  her  vanity ;  if  we 
have  erred,  it  has  been  in  tho  other  direction." 

"  Please  let  us  cease  talking  personalities.  Why 
don't  you  admire  and  talk  about  this  lovely  boy  ? 
Wouldn't  you  like  to  have  us  adopt  him  at  Oak- 
lands,  Mr.  Winthrop  ?  " 

"  I  expect  you  will  not  be  quite  satisfied  until 
you  get  the  position  of  matron  in  some  huge  asy- 
lum for  widows  and  orphans,  with  a  few  widowers 
thrown  in  for  variety." 

*»  I  should  enjoy  such  a  position,  I  believe.  It 
never  occurred  to  me  before.  Only  think! 
Gathering  up  little  bits  of  motherless  humanity 
like  this,  and  training  them  into  noble  men  and 
women.    They  would  go  on  perpetuating  my  wor^ 


AM 


172 


MEDOLISK  SKLWYN'H  WOlili. 


w 

m 


M 


long  after  my  eyes  were  sloopiiig  under  the  daisies. 
Why  that  wouUl  bo  next  thing  to  the  inunortality 
most  of  us  long  for." 

"Do  you  really  think  you  would  like  such  a 
career  ?" 

"Yes,  really.  If  you  would  only  help  mo  to 
begin  now,  in  a  small  way  at  first,  and  bu'ld  a 
pretty  cottage  in  one  of  the  Glens  around  Oak- 
lands." 

"Have  you  no  higher  ambition  than  to  take  care 

of  children  ?  " 

"  But  what  could  be  higher,  at  least  within  my 
reach?  I  am  not  clever  enough  to  write  books — 
at  least  not  good  ones,  and  tliore  are  too  many 
fifth  and  sixth  rate  ones  now  in  the  market. 
My  painting  and  music  won't  ever  amount  to  any- 
thing more  than  my  book-writing  could  do;  so 
what  remains  for  me  but  to  try  and  make  the 
world  the  better  for  having  lived  in  '.t?  And  the 
only  way  any  of  us  can  do  that  is  to  work  for 
human  beings." 

I  was  in  such  real  earnest,  I  forgot  for  the  time 
Mr.  Winthrop's  possible  sarcasm. 

"  You  are  not  very  moderate  in  your  demands. 
Possibly  I  would  be  permitted  to  share  in  the 
posthumous  honors  you  mention,  which  would  be 
some  recompense  for  the  outlay.  Of  course,  I 
would  be  called  on  to  feed  and  clothe,  as  well  as 
shelter,  your  motley  crowd." 


WK 


^11 

III  f  I 


VOliK. 

iidor  tlio  daisies, 
tho  iininortality 

uld  like  such  a 

inly  help  mo  to 
list,  and  bu'ld  a 
ns  around  Oak- 

than  to  take  care 

least  within  my 
to  write  books — 
0  are  too  many 
in  the  market, 
r  amount  to  any- 
ig  could  do ;  so 
y  and  make  the 
in  ;t?  And  the 
;  is  to  work  for 

rcTot  for  the  time 

II  your  demands. 
.  to  share  in  the 
,  which  would  be 
,y.  Of  course,  I 
lothe,  as  well  as 


ALONE  WITH  HIS  DEAD. 


173 


"I  forgot  about  tliat.  Would  it  cost  very 
much  ?  " 

"  The  expense  would  depend  largely  on  the 
numbers  you  received,  and  it  might  not  bo  safe  to 
trust  to  your  discretion  in  limiting  the  number. 
Your  syrapatliies  would  be  so  wrouglit  on.  Oak- 
lands  would  soon  swarm  witii  blear-eyed  specimens 
of  humanity,  and  Mrs.  Flaxman  and  I  would  be 
compelled  to  seek  some  other  shelter." 

"  If  I  were  only  rich  myself,"  I  ^aid,  with  a 
hopeless  sigh. 

"  You  would  very  soon  be  poor,"  Mrs.  Flaxman 
interjected,  turning  to  Mr.  Winthrop.  "I  could 
scarcely  restrain  her  from  buying  one  of  the  most 
expensive  pieces  of  bruadcloth  for  her  blind 
friend." 

"He  may  never  have  had  a  genuine  suit  of 
West  of  England  broadcloth  in  his  life,  and  I 
wanted  him  to  have  the  best.  The  difference  in 
price  would  only  amount  to  a  few  dollars ;  and  if 
we  were  getting  ourselves  a  satin  or  velvet  gown  we 
would  not  have  hesitated  a  moment  over  the  dif- 
ference of  five  or  six  dollars." 

"  My  ward  will  need  some  severe  lessons  in 
economy  before  she  can  be  entrusted  with  a  house 
full  of  children.  Paris  dolls  atid  becoming  dresses 
for  her  prettiest  chih^  on  would  soon  drain  the 
pocket." 

I  said  no  more.    My  enthusiasm,  viewed  in  the 


t  I 


4. 

■  i' 


4 

"4, 


Jjctif 


i«!«8«K!UaaKVW«snw(«s 


I  ! 


174 


iHEDOLINB  SELWYN'S  WO:iK. 


light  of  my  guardian's  cold  criticism,  seemed  ex- 
ceedingly Utopian,  and  I  concluded  that  my  best 
plan  was  to  do  the  work  tliat  came  in  my  way 
cheerfully  and  lovingly,  without  sighing  hopelessly 
after  the  impossible.  To  make  the  motherless 
little  fleck  of  immortality  happy  that  now  nestled 
confidingly  in  my  aj-ms  for  a  brief  hour,  was  the 
work  that  just  then  lay  nearest  to  me  ;  and  I  set 
myself  aoout  doing  it  with  right  good  will. 

As  we  neared  Cavendish,  the  kindly  faced  old 
gentleman  started  for  his  own  seat,  but  paused  on 
the  way  at  my  side,  and  shook  my  hand  cordially 
as  he  said :  "  I  want  to  thank  you.  Miss,  for  giv- 
ing us  all  such  a  wholesome  lesson.     I  am  an  old 
man  now,  and  can  look  back  over  the  deeds  of 
more  than  three  score  and  ten  years ;  and  I  tell 
you  there's  none  gives  me  more  real  satisfaction 
than  the  acts  of  kindness  I've  done  to  others.     If 
I  were  beginning  the  journey  again,  I'd  set  myself 
to  do  such  work  as  that,  ratlier  than  trying  to  pile 
up  money  that  at  the  last  I'd  have  to  leave  to  some 
one  that  mightn't  thank  me.    I've  a  fancy,  too, 
that  the  kindnesses  follow  us  into  another  life.    If 
I  don't  mistake,  when  you  get  old  like  me,  you'll 
have  many  pleasr.ut  memories  of  the  kind  to  look 
back  upon ;  and  then  you  may  remember  the  old 
man's  words  long  after  he  has  crumbled  to  dust." 

I  smiled  brightly  up  into  his  strong,  wholesome 
face  and  would  really  have  liked  to  know  more 


"s  wonK. 

iriticism,  seemed  ex- 
ludeil  that  my  best 
t  Ciinie  in  my  way 
ut  sighing  hopelessly 
ake  the  motherless 
ipy  that  now  nestled 
brief  hour,  was  the 
•est  to  me  ;  and  I  set 
;ht  good  will, 
the  kindly  faced  old 

seat,  but  paused  on 
c  my  hand  cordially 
k  you,  Miss,  for  giv- 
jsson.    I  am  an  old 
:;  over  the  deeds  of 
ten  years  ;  and  I  tell 
ore  real  satisfaction 
e  done  to  others.    If 
again,  I'd  set  myself 
3r  than  trying  to  pile 
have  to  leave  to  some 
3.    I've  a  fancy,  too, 
into  another  life.    If 
it  old  like  me,  you'll 
3  of  the  kind  to  look 
ay  remember  the  old 
3  crumbled  to  dust." 
lis  strong,  wholesome 

liked  to  know  more 


-it 


ALONE  WITH  HIS  DEAt). 


176 


about  him,  but  like  many  a  person  we  meet  on  the 
journey  of  life,  as  ships  on  some  wide  sea,  signal 
briefly  to  each  other  and  then  pass  out  of  sight,  so 
I  never  saw  or  heard  of  him  afterward.  He  stood 
a  moment  stroking  the  baby's  curly  head,  and  then 
with  a  murmured  "  God  bless  the  little  lad,"  he 
passed  on  to  his  own  seat.  I  felt  instinctively 
that  all  this  sentiment  would  be  exceedingly  dis- 
tasteful to  Mr.  Winthrop,  and  was  amused  at  the 
look  of  relief  that  passed  over  his  face  when  our 
own  station  was  reached.  As  I  returned  the  baby 
to  his  father,  he  gras^^ed  my  hand  with  a  pressure 
that  pained  me  and  said,  scarce  above  a  whisper: 

"  I  will  pass  your  kindness  along  to  some  other 
desolate  one  some  day.  It  is  the  only  recompense 
within  my  power  to  make  you. ' 

"  What  I  did  has  been  a  genuine  pleasure.  This 
little  fellow  has  far  overpaid  me." 

"  It  was  a  great  deal  you  did  for  me  just  at  that 
bitter  moment." 

"  I  wish  I  could  do  more  to  lighten  your  son-ow," 
I  said,  with  tears  of  syir.pathy  in  my  eyes  as  I  said 
my  final  good-bye,  and  hastened  after  Mr.  Win- 
throp, who  was  waiting,  I  knew  impatiently,  on 
the  platform.  I  saw  Samuel  assisting  Thomas  to 
control  the  horses,  who  were  always  •  .  awe  of  the 
snorting  engine  ;  and  near  them  stood  a  lumbering 
express,  into  which  the  men  were  putting  the 
long  box    that  I  knew  contained  the  rigid  body 


■:l.. 

it'*:' 


'  <i  I' 


,i!S5J6nC«»»»#»ssj«5,^3«Kiw-«*w 


176 


MSDOLtNE  SELWYN'S  WORK. 


ill'. 


sKi 


of  the  dead  mother.  Presently  the  poor  husband 
with  his  baby  crowing  gleefully  in  his  arms, 
climbed  up  to  the  seat  beside  the  driver,  and  they 
started  out  on  their  lonely  journey.  Mr.  Win- 
throp  was  singularly  patient  with  me,  although  I 
kept  them  waiting  some  time  while  I  stood  watch- 
ing the  loaded  express  puss  out  of  sight.  As  I 
leaned  back  in  our  own  luxurious  carriage,  I  tried 
to  picture  the  poor  fellow's  home  going,  and  hoped 
that  a  welcome  would  be  given  that  would  help  to 
lighten  his  burdened  heart. 


!     I 

■I    ' 


»i  I 


m 


1 


\  «iW 


e  poor  husband 
y  in  his  arms, 
iriver,  and  they 
ley.  Mr.  Win- 
me,  although  I 
e  I  stood  watcli- 
of  sight.  As  I 
carriage,  I  tried 
oing,  and  hoped 
it  would  help  to 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


HUMBLE    CHABITIES. 


Mr.  Winthrop  had  telegraphed  Reynolds  that 
morning  that  we  were  coming  home,  and  when  we 
came  iu  sight  of  Oaklands,  just  in  the  dim  twi- 
light, we  found  the  house  brilliantly  lighted. 
There  was  such  a  genial  warmth  and  comfort  when 
we  entered  the  door  that  I  exclaimed  joyously : 

"  After  all,  there  is  no  place  like  home." 

"  Is  Oaklands  better  than  New  York,  do  you 
say  ?  "  Mr.  Winthrop  questioned. 

"  This  is  home.  To  every  Avell  regulated  mind 
that  is  the  sweetest  spot  on  earth." 

"  Without  any  reservation  ?  " 

"  We  do  not  need  to  make  any  when  it  is  such 
a  home  as  Oaklands." 

"  Possibly  you  may  think  very  differently  when 
you  get  better  acquainted  with  the  fascinations  of 
city  life." 

"  One  might  enjoy  both,  don't  you  think,  Mr. 
Winthrop?  The  contrast  would  make  each  more 
delightful." 

12 


178 


MEDOLINE  SELWTUrS  WORK. 


"  You  must  try  the  experiment  before  you  will 
be  able  to  give  a  correct  decision." 

*'  It  seems  to  me  to-night  one  must  be  hard  to 
please  to  want  a  better  home  than  this,  especially 
with  an  occasional  change  to  city  life.  1  cannot 
understand  why  I  have  so  much  more  to  make  life 
beautiful  than  others — so  many  others — have." 

"  Do  you  think,  then,  that  your  lot  is  a  pecul- 
iarly fortunate  one  ?  " 

"  If  I  did  not  think  so,  I  would  be  worse  than 
those  Jews  who  fell  to  murmuring  on  their  way  to 
Canaan.  If  they  could  have  made  the  journey  as 
comfortably  as  I  am  doing  they  would  never  have 
said  a  word,  I  believe." 

"  That  is  quite  an  original  way  of  putting  it. 
Theologians  generally  are  very  severe  on  the  poor 
Jews." 

"  And  you  are  usually  pretty  severe  on  the  poor 
theologians,"  I  said  laughingly,  as  I  started  for 
my  room.  On  the  way  I  met  Reynolds,  who 
seemed  so  glad  to  have  us  lack  that  I  kissed  her 
on  the  spot. 

"Bless  your  dear  heart,"  she  exclaimed,  "its 
like  a  flash  of  sunlight  to  have  you  bursting  in  on 
us.  You  remind  me  so  much  of  your  papa.  He 
had  just  such  a  strong,  hearty  way  as  you." 

"  Oh,  Reynolds,  is  that  so  ?  Why  did  you  never 
tell  me  before  that  I  was  like  him  ?  " 


1 1pil' 


WOBE. 
before  you  will 

must  be  hard  to 
n  this,  especially 
;y  life.  1  cannot 
Qore  to  make  life 
thers — have." 
r  lot  is  a  pecuU 

I  be  worse  than 
r  on  their  way  to 
.e  the  journey  aa 
'ould  never  have 

ay  of  putting  it. 
vere  ou  the  poor 

ivere  on  the  poor 
as  I  started  for 
I  Reynolds,  who 
>hat  I  kissed  her 

exclaimed,  "its 
u  bursting  in  on 
your  papa.  He 
y  as  you." 
hy  did  you  never 
?" 


HUMBLE  CHABITIE8. 


17d 


I  . 


"  It  did  not  occur  to  me  to  tell  you.  Does  it 
please  you  to  know  it?  " 

"  Certainly  it  does.  It  takes  away  the  feeling 
that  I  am  a  changeling,  which  often  haunts  me 
when  you  tell  me  I  aiu  odd  and  unconventional," 
I  said,  turning  to  Mrs.  Fiaxraan. 

"  Darling,  1  would  rather  have  you  just  as  you 
are.  If  we  went  to  make  improvements,  we  would 
only  spoil  a  bit  of  God's  sweetest  handiwork." 

"  Oh,  Mrs.  Flaxman,  wliat  a  tremendous  com- 
pliment I  Mr.  Winthrop  would  read  you  another 
lecture,  if  he  heard  you  say  that." 

"  Some  day  we  may  need  to  lecture  him,"  she 
said  with  a  smile,  and  then  went  into  her  own 
room,  leaving  me  a  trifle  perplexed  over  her 
meaning. 

When  we  joined  Mr.  Winthrop  in  the  dining 
room  we  found  the  table  laid  with  its  usual  preci- 
sion and  elegance  for  dinner.  As  I  stood  on  the 
hearth-rug,  looking  around  the  plciisant  room,  the 
firelight  glancing  on  the  polished  silver,  and  china, 
and  lighting  up  the  beautiful  pictures  on  the  walls, 
no  wonder  the  cheerful  home  scene  made  me,  for 
the  time,  forget  the  solitary  mourner  with  his 
dead,  out  in  the  cold  and  darkness.  Mrs.  Flaxman 
presently  joined  me.  Drawing  her  an  easy-chair 
close  to  the  cheerful  blaze  I  knelt  on  the  rug  beside 
her,  the  easier  to  stroke  Fleta,  the  pretty  Angora 
cat,  who  with  lier  rough  toiigiie  licked  my  hand 


*i«^PryWWIW(W9^#"W 


iwwpi  ■  I  uwa.^ff«*"*W4*tf»  •-■"*— ^  »■ 


!i§i' 


180 


MEDOLINE  SELWTirS  WORK 


with  affectionate  welcome.  Presently  Mr.  Win- 
throp  joined  us.  His  presence  at  first  unnoticed  in 
our  busy  chat,. I  happened  to  turn  my  head  and 
saw  him  calmly  regarding  us.  "  You  would  make 
a  pleasant  picture,  kneeling  there  with  the  firelight 
playing  in  your  hair,"  he  saia,  coming  to  my  side. 
"Tlie  picture  would  be  moie  perfect  now  that 
you  have  joined  us." 

"  No,  my  presence  would  spoil  it.  A  child  play- 
ing with  her  kitten  needs  no  other  figures  to  com- 
plete the  picture." 

"  Ah,  that  spoils  your  compliment." 
,     "Mr.   Winthrop    very    judiciously    mixes    his 
sweets  and  bitters,"  Mra.  Fiaxman  said  with  a 
smile. 

"Yes;  I  should  bo  too  vain  if  he  gave  me 
a  compliment  really.  I  wonder  if  he  ever  will  do 
that  ?  "  I  looked  up  into  his  face  and  saw  that  its 
expression  was  kindly. 

"  You  would  not  wish  me  to  spoil  ycu.  If  my 
praising  you  made  you  vain,  as  you  just  said  it 
would,  that  would  be  the  worst  unkindness." 

"I  Avant  you  always  to  be  honest  with  me. 
A  very  slight  word  of  praise  then  will  have  its 
genuine  meaning." 

"  Now  that  we  have  once  more  settled  our  rela- 
tions to  each  other,  we  will  take  our  dinners. 
One  must  decend  from  the  highest  summits  to  the 
trivialities  of  eating  and  drinking." 


WMl 


m 


WOBZ 

sently  Mr.  Win- 
drst  unnoticed  in 
irn  my  head  and 
You  would  make 
with  the  fireliglit 
ming  to  my  side, 
perfect  now  that 

it.  A  child  play- 
er figures  to  com- 

ent." 

3usly    mixes    his 

aau  said   with  a 

I  if  he  gave  me 
if  he  ever  wUl  do 
3  and  saw  that  its 

spoil  ycu.    If  ray 
}  you  just  said  it 
nkindness." 
honest  with  me. 
len  will  have  its 

e  settled  our  rela- 
ake  our  dinners. 
;st  summits  to  the 

g." 


\W 


UUMBLE  CIIARITIEa. 


181 


"  I  have  never  seen  you  very  high  up  yet,  Mr. 
Winthrop.  I  do  not  tliiiik  there  is  a  spark  of 
sentiment  in  your  composition." 

"Alas,  that  I  should  ho  so  misjudged.  But 
wait  until  your  friend  Bovyer  shows  you  my 
teal's." 

Mrs.  Flaxman  generally  looked  a  trifle  worried 
when  Mr.  Winthrop  and  I  got  into  conversation. 
This  night,  when  I  wanted  every  one  to  be  happy, 
I  held  my  troublesome  tongue  in  check,  and  made 
no  further  reply  to  my  guardian's  badinage. 

When  I  went  to  my  room  for  the  night,  I  drew 
back  my  curtain  and  looked  out  into  the  darkness 
of  a  cloudy,  moonless  night.  It  chilled  me,  I 
wondered  if  the  baby  and  its  father,  with  the  cold, 
still  form  of  the  once  happy  mother,  had  got  into 
the  Ught  and  warmth  of  home.  I  compared  our 
bright  evening  together  Ik  the  drawing-room, 
where  Mr.  Winthrop  had  sat  with  us  reading,  or 
rather  translating  as  he  read,  some  splendid  pas- 
sages from  his  favorite  classical  authors,  a  treat  not 
often  granted ,  but  he  was,  I  fancied,  too  tired  to 
read  or  study  in  his  library  alone.  I  too  had  tried 
to  add  my  share  to  the  evening's  entertainment ; 
singing  mostly  some  German  home  songs  to  an 
accompaniment  on  the  piano.  He  had  not  criti- 
cised my  performance,  a  fact  very  encouraging  to 
me. 
But  now,  as  I  stood  looking  out  into  the  black 


^vre^ftsfimMfi^r. 


■T»  >■*?"■  )rM*KMMl*»N**«r  W(^ 


182 


MEDOLINE  SELWTN'S  WORK. 


i.jj-i  -J' 


V 

h' .  'I 


i: 


>r„s 


night,  I  thought  of  their  journey  over  the  rough 
roads,  already  beginning  to  freeze,  the  baby  cold 
and  hungry,  and  so  tired.  I  tunied  hurriedly  from 
the  window  and  knelt  to  say  my  prayers,  a  new 
element  entering  into  my  petitions.  Forgetting 
the  stereotyped  phrases,  I  remembered  with  pe- 
culiar vividness  the  impetuous  prayer  uttered  by 
Mr.  Lathrop  at  Mrs.  Blake's  funeral,  and  I  too 
tried  to  bring  comfort  to  another  by  prayer.  There 
was  such  help  in  the  thought  that  God  never  for- 
gets us.  I  so  soon  forgot  amid  the  pleasures  of 
home-coming  the  sorrows  of  another ;  but  Ho 
watches  ever.  The  splendors  of  His  throne  and 
crowns,  and  the  adoration  of  the  highest  intel- 
ligences never  so  absorbing  Him  as  to  cause  forget- 
fulness  of  the  humblest  parish  pensioner,  looking 
Heavenward  for  consolation.  "  Oh,  to  be  more 
God-like,  more  unforgetting  !  "  I  murmured,  still 
lingering  in  the  attitude  of  prayer.  I  do  not  think 
in  all  my  life,  I  had  got  so  near  to  the  Divine 
Heart. 

The  next  morning  an  agreeable  duty  awaited 
me.  First,  I  had  the  materiiils  for  Mr.  Bowen's 
new  suit,  and  along  with  these  a  good  many  lesser 
gifts  for  one  and  another.  In  the  daily  papers,  I 
studied  very  industriously  the  notices  of  cheap 
sales  of  dry  goods  while  in  the  city  ;  and  for  such 
a  novice  in  the  art  of  shopping,  I  made  some  really 
good  bargains.    When  I  came  to  get  my  presents 


>il^ 


Ijj-H:* 


VORK. 

over  the  rough 
s,  the  baby  cold 
d  hurriedly  from 
y^  prayers,  a  new 
•lis.  Forgetting 
nbered  with  po- 
i-ayer  uttered  by 
leral,  and  I  too 
y  prayer.  There 
t  God  never  for- 
the  pleasures  of 
lother ;    but   Ho 

His  throne  and 
le  highest  intel- 
,s  to  cause  forge  t- 
msioner,  looking 
Oh,  to  be   more 

murmured,  still 

I  do  not  think 

ir  to  the  Divine 

jle  duty  awaited 
for  Mr.  Bowen's 
jood  many  lesser 
e  daily  papers,  I 
aotices  of  cheap 
y  ;  and  for  such 
nade  some  really 
get  my  presents 


IWMULE  CHARITIES. 


183 


i  li 


all  unpacked  I  found  that  Thomas'  services  would 
be  required  if  I  took  all  at  once. 

I  found  him  at  last  in  the  kitchen,  superintend- 
ing the  preparation  of  some  medicine  for  one  of  his 
horses.  Making  known  my  errand,  he  consented 
to  drive  me  to  the  Mill  Road;  but  first  assured  me 
that  it  would  disarrange  all  his  plans  for  the  day. 
Thomas  was  an  old  bachelor,  with  ways  very  set 
and  precise ;  and  his  hours  were  divided  off  as 
regularly  as  a  collego  professor's. 

On  our  way  out  he  informed  me  that  the  widow 
Larkum  was  very  ill,  with  the  doctor  in  attendance. 
I  was  surprised  that  his  words  should  give  me 
such  a  sinking  at  the  heart. 

«  What  will  become  of  the  blind  father  and  or- 
phaned children  if  she  dies  ?  " 

"  They  will  go  to  the  poor  farm.  I  pity  them ; 
for  that  Bill  Day,  that  has  charge,  is  a  tough  sub- 
ject." 

"  She  may  .not  die.  Doctors  are  very  often  mis- 
taken. They  do  not  know  much  more  about 
the  secrets  of  life  and  death  than  the  rest  of 

us." 

'» I  allow  that's  true  ;  for  a  couple  of  them  give 
me  up  for  death,  a  good  many  years  ago;  and  a 
pretty  fright  they  give  me  for  nothing." 

"  Were  you  afraid  to  die  ?  " 

"  You  may  be  sure  I  was.  Its  very  unsartin 
work,  is  dying." 


m 


fi 


-u 


ifc;.-,?i'i»^!»''i*«*»w»»^ii'»"»|<'aiuitrw»r%gi»'i'r  tc  *««»».*«.  ^- .. 


184 


MEDOJJNK  SEDVYN'S  WOIili. 


w 


"  Mrs.  Flaxman  luis  lent  mo  tlio  lives  of  somo 
very  good  people  to  reiul.  Tlicy  were  not  afraid 
to  die,  but  looked  forward  to  it,  some  of  them, 
with  delight." 

"  They  was  the  pious  sort,  that  don't  make  much 
reckoniu'  iu  this  life,  I  allow." 

"  I  have  read  the  lives  of  both  kinds  of  people — 
the  good,  and  those  who  were  not  pious.  The 
former  .seemed  to  be  the  happiest  always." 

"  They  say  Mr.  Winthrop  is  a  greiit  man — writes 
fine  works  and  things — but  he's  not  happy.  1 
take  more  good  out  of  Oaklands  and  the  horses 
than  he  does.  lie  seems  to  sense  the  flower-gar- 
dens a  good  deal.  I  often  find  him  tliere  early  of 
a  summer's  morning  when  I  go  to  work,  with  a  bit 
of  paper  and  a  pencil  writing  away  for  dear  life  ; 
and  he  don't  seem  to  mind  mo  any  more'n  if  I  was 
one  of  the  vegetables," 

I  smiled  at  Thomas'  comparisoii ;  for  now  tha.t 
he  mentioned  it,  ho  did  seem  something  like  an 
animated  turnip. 

"  I  dare  say  he  has  far  higher  pleasures  than  you 
or  I  ever  experience.  His  thoughts  are  like  a 
rich  kingdom  to  him." 

"  He's  had  some  pretty  bitter  thoughts,  I  guess. 
He  got  crossed  in  love  once,  and  its  s(»rt  of  made 
him  dislike  Avimmen  folks.  Maybe  you've  noticed 
it  yourself?  "     Thomas  gave  me  a  searching  look. 

"  I  did  not  know  he  ever  cared  for  a  woman  in 


'tAm 


WOlUi. 


nUMULE  ClIARITJEH. 


185 


tlio  lives  of  somo 

were  not  afraid 

t,  soma  of  them, 

don't  make  much 

cinds  of  people — 

not  pious.    The 

always." 

font  man — writes 

I  not  happy.      1 

and  the  horses 
0  the  flo\rer-gar- 
iia  tliere  early  of 

work,  with  a  bit 
ay  for  dear  life  ; 
y  more'n  if  I  was 

OM  ;  for  now  that 
mctliing  like  an 

easures  than  you 
ughts  are  like  a 

hough  ts,  I  guess, 
its  S(»rt  of  made 
36  you've  noticed 
a  searching  look, 
for  a  woman  in 


his  life.  I  thought  he  was  above  such  things,"  I 
murmured,  too  astunishcd  to  think  of  a  proper 
reply. 

"  There's  very  few  men  get  up  that  high,  T 
reckon  ;  leastuv/ays,  I've  never  sot  eyes  on  them." 

I  turned  a  quizzical  look  on  Thomas,  which  he 
understood — liis  face  reddened. 

"  I  don't  claim  to  be  one  of  the  high  kind,  but  I 
allow  Oaklands  is  better  for  mo  than  a  wife.  I 
never  sot  great  store  by  wimnien  folks.  They're 
sort  of  pernicketty  cattle  to  manage ;  I'd  sooner  take 
to  horses ;  and  if  one  happens  to  die,  you  don't 
feel  so  cut  up  like  as  if  it  was  a  wife.  Now 
there's  Dan  Blake.  Marrying's  been  enough  sight 
more  worryment  to  him  than  comfort.  I've  fig- 
gured  up  the  pros  and  cons  close,  and  them  that 
keeps  single  don't  age  near  as  fast  as  the  married 
ones.  There's  the  widow  Larkum,  if  she'd  kept 
single,  she'd  have  been  young  and  blooming  now. 
Human  folks  is  many  of  them  very  poor  witted," 
Thomas  concluded,  with  fine  scorn,  and  then  he 
was  silent. 

My  thoughts  went  off  in  eager  surprise  over  that 
strange  episode  in  Mr,  Winthrop's  life,  wondering 
what  sort  of  a  woman  it  was  who  had  power  so  to 
mar  his  happiness,  and  why  she  had  not  responded 
to  his  love,  and  all  the  fascinating  story  that  my 
sense  of  honor  prevented  me  from  finding  out 
from  Thomas,  or  Mrs.  Blake,  or  even  Mrs.  Flax- 


!?3« 


180 


MEDOUNE  SELWYN'S  WOIiK. 


i*iv' ' 


man.  Now  that  I  had  quiot  to  think  it  over,  it 
seemed  like  desecration  to  have  the  stolid,  phleg- 
matic Thomas  talk  about  it. 

He  turned  to  me  abruptly.  "  Have  they  never 
mentioned  Mr.  Winthrop's  trouble  to  you  ?  " 
"  No,  Thomas,  they  have  not." 
"Well,  that's  curious  ;  but  quality  has  different 
ways  from  nateral  folks.  Well,  you  see,  she  was 
handsomer  than  any  picture;  looked  as  well  as 
you'd  think  an  angel  could  look,  and  bettor  dressed 
than  they  generally  seem  to  be ;  for  any  pictures 
I've  seen  of  them  they've  only  had  a  long  cloth 
around  thein  without  cut  or  pattern,  and  their 
wings.  I've  often  tliought  they  weren't  overhandy 
with  the  needle.  And  the  day  for-  the  wedding 
was  sot."     I  stopped  liim  there. 

"  Would  you  tell  me  this  if  you  knew  I  should 
repeat  all  you  said  to  Mr.  Winthrop?" 

"I  guess  not;  he'd  turn  me  off  without  my 
dinner,  if  he  knew." 

"You  may  be  sure  I  shall  not  tell  him;  but 
nevertheless  it  is  not  honest  for  us  to  be  talking 
on  such  a  subject." 

"I  see  you  are  like  the  rest  of  them.  You 
seemed  to  have  such  a  fellow  feeling  for  poor  folks, 
we've  concluded  you  were  more  like  us  than  them." 
"  Perhaps  I  am,  Thomas  ;  but  gentle  or  simple, 
we  ought  to  be  alike  honorable.  The  Bible  has 
only  one  code  of  morals  for  us  all." 


^  Ul !' 


wniiK. 

think  it  over,  it 
tlio  stolid,  phlog- 

Ilave  they  never 
lo  to  you  ?  " 

ivlity  has  different 
you  see,  she  was 
ooked  as  well  as 
and  better  dressed 
;  for  any  pictures 
r  had  a  long  cloth 
)attern,  and  their 
iveren't  overhandy 
'  for-  the  wedding 

ou  knew  I  should 

lirop?" 

8  off  without  my 

lot  tell  him;  but 
»r  us  to  be  talking 

st  of  them.  You 
ling  for  poor  folks, 
like  us  than  them." 
t  gentle  or  simple, 
e.  The  Bible  has 
lU." 


SMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


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Hiotographic 

Sciences 

Corporation 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  'i4S80 

(716)  873-4503 


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CIHM/ICMH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microreproductions  /  Institut  Canadian  de  microreproductions  historiques 


'Hm 


HUMBLE  CHARITIES. 


187 


"  Very  few  that  I  know  pays  much  attention  to 
Bible  rules.  But  here  we  are  at  the  Blakes'.  I'll 
hitch  the  horse  and  carry  in  the  bundles  since  you 
want  them  left  here.  Hang  it,  if  there  ain't  that 
ugly  critter  of  Dan's  coming  for  us." 

Thomas  sprang  back  into  the  carriage,  and 
looked  a  good  deal  alarmed  as  he  saw  me  turn  to 
meet  Tiger  and  pat  the  animal's  huge  head. 

He  fawned  delightedly  around  me,  licking 
my  gloved  hand  whenever  he  could  get  the 
chance. 

"  You  need  not  be  afraid,  Thomas.  I  won't  let 
him  hurt  you." 

"  I  won't  risk  him.  He's  the  crassest  brute  in 
Cavendish." 

"  Why,  Tiger,  what  a  character  to  get !  "    ' 

To  my  surprise  the  dog  looked  up  at  Thomas, 
and  uttered  an  angry  growl. 

"See,  now;  I  believe  the  brute  understands 
what  I  say." 

"  Come  with  me.  Tiger."  I  started  for  the  house. 
Tiger  stood  a  moment  uncertainly,  and  then  trotted 
after  me.  Mrs.  Blake's  face  was  radiant  when  she 
opened  the  door  in  answer  to  my  knock. 

"You're  a  thousand  times  welcome  back;  and 
my !  but  you're  needed." 

"Tliat  is  encouraging  news.  But,  Mrs.  Blake, 
won't  you  hide  Tiger  away  somewhere  ?  Thomas 
is  afraid  of  him,  and,  I  think,  not  without  reason." 


1     I 


t^-: 

!« 


i"  i 


;;■« 


^-■X^^^n'\'-  ':y.C?'^:^^S:'^!!'S^^^ 


m 


ill 


188 


MEDOLINE  SELWYS^'S  WORK. 


"  I  wish't  Dairel  'd  sell  him,  he  frightens  folks 
from  tlie  house,"  she  said,  with  muoh  discontent, 
driving  Tiger  unceremoniously  into  the  back  porch. 
Thomas  soon  had  the  bundles  laid  on  the  kitchen 
table,  and  the  carriage  turned  homewards,  while 
I  began  unrolling  the  prints  and  flannels,  frocks 
and  phiafores,  for  the  Mill  Road  pensioners.  Mrs. 
Blake  watched  eagerly;  but  at  last  exclaimed: 
"  Dear  me  !  it  must  a  cost  you  a  mint  of  money 
to  get  all  these." 

"  About  the  price  of  one  evening  dress." 
"I  hope  you  got  all  the  things,  then,  you  needed 
for  yourself." 

"  Yes,  and  more,  I  fear,  than  I  really  needed. 
«'  But  Mrs.  Flaxman  says  we  owe  it  to  our  position 
in  society  to  dress  becomingly ;  but  the  question 
to  my  mind  is,  how  far  it  is  necessary  to  go  to  pay 
that  social  debt?  Wlien  I  see  a  family  like  the 
Larkums,  my  conscience  tells  me  I  owe  them  a 
heavier  debt  than  society." 

"  I  can't  understand  why  some  people  have  no 
conscience,  and  other  so  much.  It  seems  to  me 
now  you  have  just  a  little  too  much  for  one  of 
your  age." 

"  Please  don't  you  discourage  me,  Mrs.  Blake. 
I  meet  too  much  everywhere  else.  But  for  you 
I  might  never  have  given  a  thought  to  the  poor 
and  needy." 

Mrs.  Blake  went  to  the  window  and  stood  look- 


WORK. 

le  frightens  folks 
muoli  discontent, 
ito  the  back  porch, 
aid  on  the  kitchen 
homewards,  while 
id  flannels,  frocks 
pensioners.  Mrs. 
t  last  exclaimed: 
1  a  mint  of  money 

ing  dress." 

1,  then,  you  needed 

I  I  really  needed, 
e  it  to  our  position 
but  the  question 
jssary  to  go  to  pay 
!  a  family  like  the 
mo  I  owe  them  a 

ne  people  have  no 
.  It  seems  to  me 
3  much  for  one  of 

l^  me,  Mrs.  Blake. 
.'Ise.  But  for  you 
lought  to  the  poor 

ow  and  stood  look- 


IIUMBLE  CHARITIES. 


189 


ing  ont  for  some  time  in  silence,  while  I  sat  with 
my  hand  on  Tiger's  head,  whom  I  had  liberated 
after  Tliomas  went  away.  I  looked  down  into  the 
brown  eyes  that  were  gazing  up  at  me  with  dumb 
affection. 

"  Do  you  really  like  me  so  very  much,  Tiger  ?  " 
I  said,  stooping  down  to  gratify  him  with  a  touch 
of  my  face. 

"  I  do  believe  he  tliinks  more  of  you  than  of  any- 
body. I've  not  seen  him  look  so  good-natured 
since  I  come  here  as  he  does  now."  I  fancied  that 
I  saw  traces  of  tears  on  lier  face,  and  was  surprised 
at  it,  for  she  was  not  the  kind  of  woman  constantly 
bubbling  over,  and  rarely  showed  the  tender  side 
of  her  nature,  save  in  kindly  deeds.  Again  she 
began  inspecting  my  goodly  array  of  dry  goods 
with  keen  interest,  inquiring  the  prices,  and  passing 
shrewd  comments  on  the  bargains  I  liad  made. 

"  I'm  afraid  the  Larkums  won't  need  your  gifts. 
If  they  go  to  the  poor-house,  it  won't  be  worth 
while  giving  tliem  anything  ;  the  town  '11  provide." 

"I  do  not  thmk  they  will  go  there.  Mrs. 
Larkum  will  get  better,  after  awliile." 

"It  might  do  her  good  to  hear  you  say;  so 
would  you  mind  coming  over  this  morning  to  see 
her?     I  go  in  every  day  to  see  to  them." 

I  gatliered  up  a  large  bundle  of  flannels  and 
prints,  for  herself  and  children,  along  with  the  par- 
cel containing    Mr.    Bowen's  cloth,  while    Mrs. 


i*aiiW(rl..^  v^^ji^g*.;^^  tj^^'^ii^ig.'^'' . 


190 


MEDOLINE  SELWYirS  WORK. 


I'> 


'^fei 


If*  I 


l 


Blake  was  getting  ready.     She  came  to  the  table, 
where  I  stood  arranging  my  parcels. 

"Are  these  to  go  to  the  widow's  now?"  she 
asked. 

"  Yes,  if  we  can  carry  all  at  once." 

"  I'll  see  to  that.  I've  taken  many  a  heavier 
load  a  good  deal  farther." 

"  But  I  will  share  the  burden  with  you." 

"  No,  it  looks  better  for  me  to  have  my  arms  full 
than  you ;  and,  anyway,  I  want  to  do  something  to 
help  them,  and  you  too." 

I  humored  her  fancy,  only  insisting  on  relieving 
her  of  my  present  for  Mr.  Bowen.  It  was  the 
most  precious  package  in  the  lot ;  and  I  feared  she 
might  drop  it.  When  we  reached  the  door  of  the 
Larkum  cottage  she  halted. 

"  You  won't  like  the  look  of  things  here  to-day. 
There's  only  the  neighbors  to  look  after  them; 
and  the  most  of  us  has  more'n  enough  to  do  home." 

"  If  I  am  such  a  poor  soldier  as  to  be  so  easily 
frightened  as  that,  you  would  be  ashamed  of  me. 
When  they  endure  it  all  the  time,  surely  I  may 
for  a  few  minutes." 

"  But  you're  not  used  to  it." 

She  entered  without  knocking,  when  a  scene 
met  my  gaze  that  fully  equaled  Mrs.  Blake's  warn- 
ing. The  fire  was  quite  out,  and  I  could  see  no 
fuel  at  hand  to  kindle  it,  Mr.  Bowen  sat  in  the 
window  trying  to  extract  some  warmth  from  the 


'.(,.i 


WORK. 

came  to  the  table, 

eels. 

dow's  now?"  she 

ice." 

1  many  a  heavier 

with  you." 

have  my  arras  full 

;o  do  something  to 

listing  on  relieving 
wen.  It  was  the 
; ;  and  I  feared  she 
ed  the  door  of  the 

things  here  to-day. 
look  after  them ; 
lough  to  do  home." 
as  to  be  so  easily 
be  ashamed  of  me. 
time,  surely  I  may 


ng,  when  a  scene 
Mrs.  Blake's  warn- 
nd  I  could  see  no 
.  Boweii  sat  in  the 
warmth  from  the 


ilUMBLE  CUAHITIE8. 


191 


cTuU,  November  sunshine  ;  the  baby  crying  wearily 
in  his  iiruis,  probably  from  cold  and  liunger  com- 
bined ;  the  other  two  children  hud  curled  them- 
selves ii;;  in  an  old  rug,  their  bright  eyes  watching 
us  with  eager  longing,  the  house  itself  was  the 
picture  of  desolation. 

I  sliivered  under  my  warm  fur  cloak,  and  with  dif- 
ficulty restrained  myself  from  rushing  from  the 
place  ;  but  Mrs.  Blake,  laying  down  her  bundle  with 
a  sigh  of  relief,  bade  Mr.  Bowen  good  morning  in 
her  usual  cheerful  way  ;  he  responded  with  equal 
cheerfulness,  still  ignorant  of  my  presence  there. 
"  You  find  us  a  little  cold  to-day,"  he  said,  as  if  it 
were  the  merest  accident ;  "  but  wood  hsis  given 
out,  and  the  morning  seems  rather  cool," 

I  looked  at  him  in  amazement.  How  could  he 
speak  so  calmly  under  the  circumstances  ?      ' 

"  How  is  Mrs.  Larkum,  to-day  ?  " 

"  Pretty  low,  I  am  sorry  to  say.  The  doctor 
says  she  needs  beef-tea  and  wine." 

"  It's  easy  for  doctoi-s  to  prescribe." 

"  He  thinks  she  might  come  around  if  she  had 
proper  nourishment.  But  we  are  in  the  Lord'3 
hands,"  he  added  patiently. 

"  Yes,  and  I  guess  the  Lord  has  sent  one  of  His 
ravens  to  look  after  you.  Not  that  Miss  Selwyn 
looks  like  a  raven — she's  more  likes  a  lily." 

"Is  Miss  Selwyn  here?"  he  asked,  turning 
around  eagerly. 


,  1 


192 


MEDOLINE  SELWrirs  WORK. 


"  Yes,  I  reached  home  last  evening.  I  am  sorry 
to  find  you  in  sucli  trouble." 

"  The  Lord  knows  what  is  best  for  us.  I  want 
nothing  but  what  He  wills  for  me.  If  pain,  and 
poverty  come,  they  are  His  evangels,  and  should  I 
dare  to  repine  ?  " 

"Perhaps  He  has  seen  that  you  are  patient 
under  severity,  and  He  may  send  comfort  now." 

"My  Father  is  rich  and  wise,  therefore  I  am  con- 
tent;  for  I  know  His  kindness  is  without  limit." 

I  looked  in  his  face.  A  grave,  refined  expression 
lent  dignity  to  features  already  handsome,  while 
there  was  a  serenity  one  of  the  Old  Masters  might 
have  coveted  to  reproduce  on  one  of  their  immor- 
tal pictured  faces. 

"  Your  daughter  shall  have  all  the  nourishment 
the  doctor  orders  after  this ;  and  I  believe  she  will 
soon  be  better.  The  Lord  is  more  pitiful  than  we 
are,"  I  said,  gently. 

"  God  will  reward  you,  my  dear  friend.  Pardon 
me  for  calling  you  such ;  but  you  have  indeed  been 
a  friend  in  adversity." 

"  I  am  glad  to  be  a  friend  of  one  who  is  the 
friend  of  God.  I  esteem  it  both  an  honor  and 
privilege." 

"  I  pray  God  you  may  very  soon  hold  the  dearer 
relation  to  Hipiself  of  child,  if  you  are  not  that 
already."  He  turned  his  face  to  me  with  an  eager, 
expectant  expression. 


I 


WORK. 

[ling.    I  am  sorry 

b  for  us.  I  want 
me.  If  pain,  and 
^els,  and  should  I 

you  are  patient 
id  comfort  now." 
berefore  I  am  con- 
s  without  limit." 
refined  expression 
handsome,  while 
)ld  Masters  might 
le  of  their  immor- 

l  the  nourishment 

I  believe  she  will 

ire  pitiful  than  we 

ir  friend.  Pardon 
I  have  indeed  been 

i  one  who  is  the 
th   an  honor  and 

)n  hold  the  dearer 
you  are  not  that 
me  with  an  eager, 


nUMBLE  CHARITIES. 


lO.*? 


1 


"No,  not  in  the  way  you  spoak  of.  I  am  no 
nearer  to  Iliiu  than  I  was  in  childhood.  It  is 
only  of  late  I  realized  the  need  to  be  reconciled  to 
Him." 

"  He  answers  prayer."  There  was  such  a  ring 
of  joyful  faith  in  his  voice  I  felt  convinced  there 
was  one  praying  for  mo  who  had  a  firm  hold  on 
God. 

I  turned  to  jMis.  Blake,  who  was  busying  her- 
self in  trying  to  make  a  fire. 

"  Where  can  we  get  some  coals,  or  do  they  burn 
wood  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  They  sell  the  waste  at  the  mill  pretty  cheap 
for  kindlings,  but  the  coal  is  far  cheapest." 

"  Can  we  get  some  directly  ?  " 

"  Yes,  with  tlie  money,"  she  said,  grimly. 

I  took  out  my  pnrse — alas,  now  far  from  full 

when  would  I  learn  economy  ? 

I  gave  her  two  dollars.  "  Will  that  buy  enough 
for  the  present?"!  asked  anxiously;  for  I  was 
exceedingly  ignorant  of  household  furnishings. 

"  Deary  me,  yes  ;  it  '11  last  for  a  month  or  more." 

I  was   greatly   relieved.     By  that  time   a  little 

private  venture  of  my  own  might  be  bringing  me 

in  some  money.     I  told  Mrs.  Blake  to  prehcnt  the 

dry  goods  as  soon  as  I  was  out  of  the  house.     I 

fancied  they   would  have   an  indirect  medicinal 

effect  on  the  sick  woman. 

"I  shall   go   liome   immediately  and  eet  Mra 

13 


194 


MEDOLINE  SELWYN'S  WOlilC. 


14, 


Reynolds  to  make  some  beef  tea.  Slie  will  keep 
Mrs.  Larkum  supplied,  I  am  sure,  as  long  as  there 
is  need,  and  I  will  either  bring  or  send  a  bottle  of 
wine  directly,"  I  said  encouragingly  to  Mr.  Bowen, 
whose  face  under  all  circumstances  seemed  to 
wear  the  same  expression  of  perfect  peace. 

"  I  have  not  language  to  express  my  gratitude, 
but  you  do  not  ask  for  thanks."  The  assertion 
was  something  in  the  form  of  a  question. 

"I  have  a  feeling  that  you  will  make  me  the 
debtor  before  long,"  I  murmured  softly,  and  then 
took  my  leave.     Reynolds  entered  very  heartily 
into  my  scheme  for  relieving  Mrs.  Larkum,  and  Mrs. 
Flaxman,  always  eager  to  help  others  when  once 
her  attention  was    aroused,   packed  a  generous 
hamper  of  wine  and  preserves,  fresh  eggs  and 
prints  of   delicious  Alderney  butter,  and  fresh 
fruits,  with  more  solid  provisions,  and  sent  them 
around  by  the  uncomplaining  Thomas,  at  an  hour 
that  suited  his  convenience.     Cook  also  gave  me  a 
good  basket  full  of  cooked  provisions ;  so  I  set  out 
with  Thomas  very  well  provided  for  at  least  a 
week's  siege.    I  found  Mrs.   Blake  still  at  the 
Larkums.    She  had  been  in  the  mean  time  very 
busy  getting  them  made  comfortable;  and  while 
so  doing  had  taken  minute  stock  of  their  ways  and 
means.    "  I  had  no  idea  they  was  so  bad  off,"  she 
assured  me  in   whispered   consultation.     "  There 
was  the  barrel  of  flour  she  got  with  the  money  you 


o 


I.  Slie  will  keep 
,  as  long  as  there 
r  send  a  bottle  of 
fly  to  Mr.  Bowen, 
inces  seemed  to 
jct  peace. 
iss  my  gi-atitudo, 
"  The  assertion 
uestion. 

,f;ll  make  me  the 
I  softly,  and  then 
red  very  heartily 
Larkum,  and  Mrs. 
others  when  once 
eked,  a  generous 
,  fresh  eggs  and 
jutter,  and  fresh 
IS,  and  sent  them 
tiomas,  at  an  hour 
ok  also  gave  me  a 
sions;  so  I  set  out 
ed  for  at  least  a 
lake  still  at  the 
e  mean  time  very 
rtable;  and  while 
:  of  their  ways  and 
as  so  bad  off,"  she 
ultation.     "  There 
ith  the  money  you 


BUMBLE  CHAltlTIES. 


195 


give  her,  and  not  another  airthly  thing  in  the 
bouse  to  eat  but  some  salt  and  about  a  peck  of 
potatoes." 

"  Did  Mr.  Bowen  know  this  morning  there  was 
so  little?" 

"  Sartinly ;  but  I  believe  he'd  starve  afore  he'd 
let  on  ;  he  kinder  looks  to  the  Lord  for  his  j)ervi- 
sions,  and  he  thinks  it's  a  poor  sort  of  faith  to  ask 
human  beings.  I  think  he's  most  too  good  for  such 
a  forgetting  world  as  this  is.'' 

"The  Lord  has  provided  abundantly  to-day, 
Mrs.  Blake." 

"  I  won't  allow  but  somebody  has.  Maybe  the 
Lord  put  it  in  your  heart,  I  can't  say  for  sartin. 
It's  a  curious  mixed  up  world,  and  we  don't  know 
where  men  leaves  off  and  the  Lord  begins ;  but  that 
blind  man  is  a  Christian,  and  if  there  is  such  a 
thing  as  religion  he's  got  it  and  no  mistake." 

As  1  looked  around  at  the  changed  appearance 
of  eveiything  about  me  I  concluded  Mrs.  Blake  did 
the  work  of  the  Christian,  even  if  she  made  no 
profession.  The  house  had  been  scrubbed,  the 
stove  nicely  polished,  and  the  children's  faces  shone 
with  the  combined  effects  of  soap  and  water  and 
the  good  cheer  that  was  being  provided. 

Mr.  Bowen  was  sitting  back,  as  if  afraid  of 
absorbing  too  much  of  the  heat,  rocking  the  cradle 
and  singing  in  a  rich,  low  voice  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  hymns  I  ever  heard,  the  look  of  peace 


hi 


;.!' 


"Mt' 


196 


MEDOUNE  8 EL  wry  a  WORK. 


that  came  from  some  unseen  source  still  lighting 
his  face.  Witli  Mrs.  Bhvke's  assistance,  and  with 
occasional  exclamations  of  delight,  on  her  part  I 
unpacked  the  hamper  and  then  1  took  a  little  wine 
and  a  bunch  of  grapes  in  to  Mrs.  Larkum.  I  was 
shocked  at  the  change  a  few  weeks  had  made  in 
lier  appearance.  Slie  saw  the  pained  look  in  my 
face  and  her  own  countenance  fell. 

♦'  Mrs.  Bhike  told  me  you  seemed  sure  I  would 
get  better.  Do  you  think  no\V  there  is  no  hope  ?  " 
she  usked  pitifully. 

"  I  shall  not  give  you  up  until  we  try  the  effect  of 
these,"  I  said  cheerfully,  putting  the  cup  that  con- 
tained the  wine  to  her  lips  and  laying  the  grapes 
in  her  hand.  She  took  a  sip  or  two  and  then  put 
the  cup  aside.  "I  have  eaten  so  little  for  several 
days  you  would  soon  make  me  intoxicated  with  that 
rich  wine.  I  never  tasted  any  like  it,"  she  said,  with 
a  pitiful  attempt  at  a  smile.  I  got  out  a  slice  of 
cook's  home-made  bread,  and  toasting  it  before  the 
fire,  with  Mrs.  Blake's  help,  we  soon  had  a  dainty 
lunch  prepared  for  lier  with  jelly,  and  a  cup  of  tea 
with  real  cream,  an  unknown  delicacy  in  her  cot- 
tage, floating  on  the  top.  I  carried  it  and  watched 
while  she  ate  it  all.  "  Perhaps  it  may  kill  me," 
she  said,  plaintively,  "  but  I  believe  I  am  more 
hungry  than  sick.  This  cold  cut  me  right  down, 
and  I  had  nothing  to  tempt  my  appetite." 

"  I  believe  Miss  Selwyn  is  one  of  them  wonder- 


i 


WORK. 

irce  still  lighting 
listauce,  and  with 
ht,  on  her  part  I 
took  a  httle  wiiio 
Larkuni.  I  was 
eks  liad  niado  in 
lained  look  in  my 
11. 

med  sure  I  would 
lere  is  no  hope  ?  " 

ve  try  the  effect  of 
the  cup  that  con- 
laying  the  grapes 
two  and  then  put 
0  little  for  several 
oxicated  with  that 
e  it,"  she  said,  with 
got  out  a  slice  of 
isting  it  before  the 
soon  had  a  dainty 
f,  and  a  cup  of  tea 
elicacy  in  her  cot- 
ied  it  and  watched 
3  it  may  kill  me," 
elieve  I  am  more 
ut  me  right  down, 
appetite." 
le  of  them  wonder- 


BUMBLE  CUAIilTIEa. 


197 


ful  people  what  lias  tlie  gift  of  healing.  I've  hoard 
tell  of  'em,  but  I  never  seen  one,"  Mis.  Blake  said, 
regarding  me  at  the  same  time  very  seriously. 

"  I  shouldn't  wonder,"  Mrs.  Larkuni  responded 
calmly.  "I  made  up  my  mind  only  this  morning 
it  was  useless  for  me  to  expect  to  get  round  again  ; 
and  I  was  nearly  heartbroken  tliiiiking  of  poor 
father  and  the  cliildren  going  on  the  parish." 

"  A  nice  new  frock,  and  good  vittels  ain't  bad 
medsin  for  poor  folks  sometimes,"  Mrs.  Blake  said 
dryly. 

"That  ia  true;  but  I  was  feeling  very  low  and 
weak,"  Mra.  Larkum  said,  apologetically. 

"We  all  know  that,  and  more'u  yourself  was 
afraid  it  might  go  hard  with  you." 

"  So  we  have  decided  that  it  was  the  food  and 
clothes  that  have  wrouglit  the  miracle,  and  not  any 
unusual  healing  virtues  in  me,"  I  said,  quite  re- 
lieved ;  for  the  change  wrought  was  so  sudden  and 
great,  I  began  to  feel  uneasy  lest  I  might  be  pos- 
sessed unconsciously  of  some  mysterious  power. 

Mrs.  Larkum  smiled  gently.  "  I  am  not  sure  of 
that.  I  find  you  always  make  me  happier  whenever 
I  see  you.  I  seem  to  get  a  fresh  hold  on  hope,  as 
if  there  might  yet  be  something  in  store  for  us." 

"  I  understand  why  you  feel  that  way.  I  am 
glad  it  is  no  mere  inexplicable  experience."  I  went 
into  the  kitchen  thinking  to  give  Mr.  Bowen  and 
the  children  a  few  of  the  surplus  dainties. 


t,  'I 


k 


J  s 


g1 


»' 


198 


MKDOLINE  SELWYN'H  WOIiJC. 


He  had  ceased  singing,  but  was  sitting  witlx  up- 
lifted face,  as  if  in  deep  communion  with  God ;  his 
lips  moved,  but  no  sound  escaped. 

The  eldest  boy  seeing  me  hesitate  came  to  my 
side  and  whispered  softly.  "  Mother  says  we  are 
not  to  speak  when  grandfather  looks  like  that — cos 
he's  praying."  I  stood  holding  the  child's  hand,  an 
indescribable  sensation  stealing  over  me  while  I 
stood  gazing  into  the  rapt,  sightless  face. 

Never  before  in  great  cathedral,  or  humble 
church,  had  I  felt  the  awful  presence  of  God  as  at 
that  moment.  A  strange  trembling  seized  me,  and, 
involuntarily  I  turned  my  head  away,  as  if  I  were 
gazing  too  boldly  upon  holy  things.  I  was  re- 
minded of  the  ancient  high  priest  of  the  Jewish 
religion  who,  once  a  year,  took  his  life  in  his  hand, 
and  went  into  the  Holy  of  Holies,  to  gaze  on  the 
Divine  token. 

The  child,  too,  stood  silently  with  bated  breath, 
perhaps  more  deeply  impressed  than  his  wont  at 
seeing  my  emotion.  After  awhile  ho  pulled  my 
hand  gently  and  then  motioned  for  me  to  stoop 
down  to  him.     I  did  so. 

"  Grandad  prays  every  day  for  you.  I  hear  him 
myself."  He  looked  up  into  my  face  with  a  curious 
expression  of  importance  at  having  such  a  secret 
to  tell,  and  surprise  that  I  should  need  his  grand- 
father's prayers. 


f " 


WOIiK. 

IS  sitting  witli  up- 
lou  with  God ;  his 

iitate  came  to  my 
other  says  we  are 
oks  like  tliat — cos 
le  child's  hand,  an 
over  me  while  I 
Bss  face. 

gdral,  or  humble 
sence  of  God  as  at 
iig  seized  me,  and, 
iway,  as  if  I  were 
liings.  I  was  re- 
;st  of  the  Jewish 
is  life  in  his  hand, 
s,  to  gaze  on  the 

;vith  bated  breath, 
than  his  wont  at 
ile  ho  pulled  my 
I  for  me  to  stoop 

:'  you.  I  hear  him 
face  witli  a  curious 
ing  such  a  secret 
d  need  his  grand- 


UUMliLE  CHARITIES. 


m 


A  sharp  knoclc  at  the  door  broke  the  spell  that 
was  holding  us  in  such  holy  quiet. 

Mrs.  Blake  hastened  to  open  it,  when  a  strange- 
ly familiar  v 'ice  sounded  on  my  ear. 

There  was  a  hearty  ring  of  welcome  in  her  voice 
as  she  bade  him  welcome. 

«  Come  right  in ;  you'll  find  things  better  'n  you 
migVxt  expect." 

I  turned  to  see  who  was  coming.  A  swift  and 
kindly  look  of  recognition  in  the  deep,  blue  eyes 
took  me  back  to  my  first  experience  of  Cavendish; 
and  an  instant  after  I  recollected,  with  a  good  deal 
of  satisfaction,  that  it  was  the  Rev.  Mr.  Lathrop, 
whom  I  first  saw  at  Mrs.  Daniel  Blake's  funeral. 
He  extended  his  hand  with  such  hearty  cordiality 
that  I  gave  him  mine  in  return  with  a  good  bit  of 
my  heart  along  with  it. 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you  here."     It  was  not  so 
much  in  the  v/ords  themselves  as  the  way  he  spoke 
them,  that  such  welcome  meaning  was  conveyed. 
"  Indeed,  you  may  be,"  Mrs.  Blake  responded. 
I  saw  Mr.  Bowen  eagerly  waiting  to  speak  to 
his  minister,  and  even  the  children  were  edging  up 
to  kirn  with  expectant  faces.  "  He  always  brings  us 
apples,"  my  little  lad  explained  to  me  in  a  whisper. 
With  entire  change  of  voice  he  turned  to  Mr. 
Bowen    and  said :— "  How    fares    it    with    you, 
brother,  in  the  darkness  ?  " 
♦' Well,  all  is  well," 


200 


MEDOLINE  SELWYN'S  WORK. 


In  low,  sympathetic  tones  lie  asked: — "  He  still 
provides  songs  in  the  night  ?  " 

"  Yes,  almost  us  sweet  as  if  Heaven  itself  were 
stooping  to  heur." 

"  You  have  learned  the  secret  God  reveals  to 
but  few  of  us." 

"  Ah,  brother,  the  fault  is  all  in  us,  not  in  Him. 
Gracious  as  he  is  to  me,  all  might  share  with  me 
in  tliis  blessed  inheritance." 

Mr.  Lathrop  turned  to  me.  "  Our  friend  here 
certainly  has  meat  to  eat  of  which  very  few  get 
the  full  taste." 

"  I  did  not  know  there  could  be  such  joy  in 
religion.     It  is  a  revelation  to  me,  sir." 

"  Yes,  we  go  out  of  our  way  to  help  othera,  not 
expecting  to  bo  repaid,  and  sometimes  one  of  God's 
angels  meets  us  in  human  guise,  and  brings  us  a 
blessing  compared  with  which  our  poor  gift  sinks 
into  insignificance."  He  spoke  to  me  in  a  low 
tone.  Mr.  Bowen  could  not  hear;  indeed  he 
seemed  never  to  notice  conversation  not  addressed 
to  him  personally.  I  fancied  tliat  his  own  thoughts 
were  more  agreeable  than  average  conversation. 
I  stood  uncertainly,  longing  to  remain  to  hear 
more  of  the  conversation  passing  between  these 
two  men,  but  afraid  I  might  thereby  violate  some 
unwritten  social  code.  I  knew  very  httle  of  the 
relation  between  pastor  and  people  at  that  time, 
especially  in  America. 


>.•;;■.*- 


WORK. 

sked:— "He  still 

saven  itself  were 

b  God  reveals  to 

II  us,  not  in  Him. 
it  share  with  me 

Our  friend  here 
ch  very  few  get 

be  such  joy  in 
,  sir." 

help  othci-s,  not 
mes  one  of  God's 

and  brings  us  a 
r  poor  gift  sinks 
to  me  in  a  low 
hear ;  indeed  he 
on  not  addressed 
his  own  thoughts 
ge  conversation, 
remain  to  hear 
J  between  tiiese 
}by  violate  some 
^ery  little  of  the 
jle  at  that  time, 


HUMBLE  CHARITIES. 


201 


Mrs.  Blake  possibly  read  my  face.  She  came 
to  me  find  said : — "  Won't  you  stay  to  prayers  ? 
I  guess  most  all  the  churches'U  listen  to  each  other 
reading  the  Scripters  and  praying.  I  know  they'd 
take  it  as  a  favor."  Slie  tried  to  speak  softly  but 
Mre.  Blake's  voice  had  not  been  trained  to  fine 
modulations,  and  I  felt  certain  Mr.  Lathrop  over- 
heard her  remark. 

"  I  would  like  to  stay  if  I  am  not  intruding." 

"  I  guess  the  best  of  Christians  never  reckon 
folks  in  the  way  when  they're  praying  together, 
though  I  shouldn't  say  much  about  them,  not  being 
one  myself,"  she  said,  dryly. 

I  sat  down  quite  near  to  Mr.  Bowen.  I  wanted 
to  study  his  face,  and  as  I  listened  in  silence,  the 
conversation  between  the  pastor  and  this  member 
of  his  flock  was  a  new  and  beautiful  revelation  to 
me.  The  one  seemed  to  help  the  othei",  while  no 
stain  of  worldliness  marred  the  even  flow  of  their 
words.  After  awhile  Mrs.  Blake  handed  the  min- 
ister a  well-worn  Bible.  He  opened  it  and  turned 
the  leaves  thoughtfully,  pausing  at  last  at  the  103d 
Psalm.  I  looked  at  Mr.  Bowen  while  Mr.  Lath- 
rop was  reading.  His  lips  were  softly  moving  as 
if  in  responsive  worship,  the  expression  of  his  face 
like  a  thanksgiving  Psalm. 

A  moment's  pause  in  tl)e  reading  while  the  leaves 
were  turned,  and  then  the  lesson  was  chosen  from 
the  17th  of  St.  John's  Gospel  and  selections  from 


:'<, 
n 


202 


MEDOLINE  SELWYirs  WORK. 


.Si 

lilt 


the  ten  last  chapters  of  Revelation.  I  fancied  that 
in  the  pause  between  his  reading  the  minister  was 
asking  to  be  directed  to  the  right  psissages.  Every 
verse  seemed  to  bring  its  own  special  consolation, 
and  I  was  almost  as  much  impressed  with  the  look 
on  Mr.  Bowen's  face  at  last,  as  by  the  words  that 
fell  on  my  ears.  It  reminded  me  of  the  faces  the 
Old  Masters  have  left  us  of  tlie  saints  and  martyrs 
of  the  early  church.  Perhaps  they  took  their 
models  from  just  such  men  as  Mr.  Bowen,  whom 
God  had  left  in  the  furnace  until  his  own  imago 
was  reflected  in  them.  But  my  deepest  emotions 
were  stirred  when,  kneeling  with  the  rest,  I  listened 
to  Mr.  Lathrop's  prayer. 

As  I  listened,  I  had  no  longer  any  doubt  as  to 
the  future  well-being  of  this  family  ;  but,  wlien  just 
at  the  close  of  his  prayer,  my  name  was  mentioned, 
and  the  fulfillment  asked  for  the  promise  given  by 
Christ,  that  even  a  cup  of  cold  water  given  in  his 
name  should  be  rewarded,  a  strange  sense  of  awe 
came  over  me.  Was  it  possible  I  had  been  giv- 
ing direct  to  Christ — visiting  His  sick,  and  poor, 
and  sorrowing,  and  making  Him  glad  ?  My  eyes 
filled  with  tears,  and  a  deep  longing  took  pos- 
session of  my  heart  fo  know  this  mighty  Friend 
who  d"ed  for  me,  in  the  same  real,  blessed  way  that 
these  men  knew,  and  loved  Him.  There  were  few 
words  spoken  after  the  prayer  was  ended.  The 
place  seemed  holy  ground  ■  and,  shortly  after,  Mr, 


>i 


If 


,i»)1- 


WORK. 

n.  I  fancied  that 
the  minister  was 
piissages.  Every 
eciul  consohition, 
sed  with  tlie  look 
y  the  words  that 
e  of  the  faces  tlie 
aints  and  martyrs 
they  took  their 
[r.  Bowen,  whom 
il  his  own  image 
deepest  emotions 
the  rest,  I  listened 

■  any  doubt  as  to 
Ij' ;  but,  wlien  just 
le  was  mentioned, 
promise  given  by 
'ater  given  in  his 
ige  sense  of  awe 
I  I  had  been  giv- 
is  sick,  and  poor, 
I  glad  ?  My  eyes 
onging  took  pos- 
lis  mighty  Friend 
1,  blessed  way  that 
There  were  few 
was  ended.  The 
shortly  after,  Mr, 


HUMBLE  CUAIilTIES. 


203 


Lathrop  left,  first  going  to  the  little  lad  who  had 
given  me  his  whispered  confidence,  and  dropped  a 
few  silver  coins  in  his  chubby  fist.  lie  stood  regard- 
ing the  money  complacently  until  the  door  had 
closed  on  the  minister,  and  tlien,  going  to  his  grand- 
father, he  showed,  with  great  glee,  his  store  of 
money. 

"  We  will  liave  everything  now  that  wo  want, 
won't  we,  grandfather?"  lie  questioned,  placing 
the  money  in  his  grandfather's  lianda. 

"  We  will  always  have  what  is  best  for  us,  Fred- 
die ;  but  you  must  never  take  the  minister's  money 
again.  You  should  give  to  him,  instead  of  taking 
from  him." 

"  So  I  must,"  Freddie  responded,  rather  sorrow- 
fully ;  "  but  may  I  take  his  apples  ?  " 

"  Well,  yes ;  you  may  do  that,  and,  some  day, 
when  you  are  a  big  boy,  and  earning  money,  you 
can  buy  him  a  whole  barrel  full." 

"  I  might  keep  a  few  of  them  ?  "  Freddie  ques- 
tioned, such  extreme  generosity  overpowering  hia 
imagination. 

"  We  will  see  when  the  time  comes." 

]\Irs.  Blake  beckoned  me  to  her  side,  at  the  fur- 
ther end  of  the  room. 

"I  didn't  give  liim  these  ;  I  put  'em  out  of  sight 
till  you'd  come." 

"But  I  wanted  him  to  get  them  while  I  was 
away." 


~::«.",:^.'''>°fl=r--"-' 


204 


MEDOLINE  SEDVYN'S  WOIiK. 


i»r 


»'  Yes,  I  know  ;  but  it'll  be  easier  to  tliivnk  you 
right  off,  when  lie's  surprised.  My !  he'd  soon 
have  been  able  to  fly  ;  his  clothes  is  that  ragged." 

"  Yes,  they  are  very  poor ;  but,  some  way,  one 
don't  see  much  but  his  face.  I  forget  that  he  is 
poor  and  ragged  when  I  look  at  him." 

"  We're  not  all  so  blind  as  that.  I'm  going  now 
to  tell  him." 

"  Mr.  Bowen,  you'll  think  it  never  rains  but  it 
pours.     I've  another  surprise  for  you." 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  He  turned  his  face  in  the  direc- 
tion of  her  voice. 

"  Miss  Selwyn  got  you  the  finest  piece  of  cloth 
I've  sot  eyes  on  this  many  a  day,  to  make  you  a  new 
suit  of  clothes.     Just  feel  of  that,  now." 

He  stroked  it  softly  for  a  moment,  and  then 
turned  his  flushed  face  to  me.  "  You  will  bank- 
rupt us  witii  your  generosity.  Miss  Sehvyn.  But 
God  will  pay  you.     He  is  rich  and  wise." 

"  You  are  paying  me,  too,  Mr.  Boweu.  Prayers 
are  better  than  gold." 

He  said  nothing,  but  took  up  a  fold  of  the  cloth 
and  stroked  it,  I  thought,  lovingly. 

"  I  need  no  longer  envy  the  swallows  who  build 
their  nests  in  the  eaves  of  the  Lord's  house.  How 
my  soul  will  rejoice  to  meet  once  more  with  His 
people !  '  Bless  the  Lord,  0  my  soul,  and  forget 
not  all  His  benefits.' " 

For  a  moment  he  seemed  to  forget  our  presence. 


^1*. 


WOIiK. 

er  to  tliivnk  you 
My !  he'd  soon 
is  that  r.agged." 

t,  some  way,  one 

•orget  that  he  is 

lim." 

,     I'm  going  now 

Bver  rains  but  it 

you." 

i  face  in  the  direc- 

!st  piece  of  cloth 

0  make  you  a  new 
;,  now." 

loment,  and  then 
"You  will  bank- 
iss  Selwyn.     But 
id  wise." 
Boweu.     Prayers 

1  fold  of  the  cloth 

rallows  who  build 
:d's  house.  How 
e  more  with  His 
r  soul,  and  forget 

rget  our  presence. 


HUMBLE  CHARITIES. 


206 


Mrs.  Blake,  always  practical,  brought  us  all  down 
to  earth  again  by  suggesting  that  we  get  the  suit 
made  tvs  soon  as  possible. 

"  If  the  tailor  will  cut  it  for  us,  a  few  of  us 
women  folk  will  come  in  and  make  it  right  off,  so's 
he  can  get  to  meeting.  Dan'el  '11  be  glad  to  come 
and  take  him  there  every  Sunday." 

"I  could  lead  grandfather,"  little  Fred  stoutly 
asserted.     "  I've  been  past  there  lots  of  times." 

"  Are  women  as  good  tailors  as  men  ?  "  I  asked, 
doubtfully. 

"  I  reckon  not ;  but  they're  enough  sight  cheaper, 
especially  when  they  work  for  nothing.  Tailors  is 
awful  dear." 

"  I  Avant  the  clothes  to  look  nicely.  I  will  pay 
the  tailor." 

"  We  can  make  the  vest  and  pants  well  enough 
if  he  cuts  'em  and  makes  the  coat.  S'pose  we  call 
and  see  him  on  our  way  home  ?  " 

I  complied  with  her  request,  and  found  the  tail- 
or's establishment  a  very  humble  affair  on  the  Mill 
Road.  Mrs.  Blake  negotiated  with  him  entirely, 
but  he  always  directed  his  remarks  to  me. 

"If  I  hadn't  a  family  of  my  own  to  support 
these  hard  times,  I'd  do  it  for  nothing,"  he  assured 
me,  over  and  over ;  "  but  I'll  do  it  for  half  price. 
My  time,  you  know,  is  all  the  money  I  have,  and 
one  must  look  out  first  for  their  own." 

I  found  he  was  a  prosy,  weak-minded  creature. 


\\'4 


■'t'liU; 


i'.'j't 


7 

y 


'^'i  /^.V^-^1V-*^!^^^^"^  "■ 


I- 

lUii 


m 


MEDOLINS  SELWYirS  WORK. 


who,  although  time  was  so  precious,  would  have 
stood  talking  to  mo  of  its  great  value  by  the  hour, 
if  I  had  patience  to  listen.  I  thanked  him  for  his 
offer,  but  assured  him  I  would  pay  his  usual  price 
for  the  work.  Mrs.  Blake,  however,  stipulated 
that  she  and  her  neighbors  would  relieve  him  of  all 
but  the  coat,  and  I  could  see  he  was  not  pleased 
with  her  interference.  This  matter  settled,  I  hast- 
ened home,  very  uncertain  how  Mr.  Winthrop 
would  regard  so  much  of  my  time  being  spent  on 
the  Mill  Road,  if  he  should  discover  I  had  been 
there  twice  that  day.  When  I  got  home  Mrs. 
Flaxman  told  me  he  had  asked  for  me  each  time 
that  I  was  there,  but  he  did  not  say  anything  to 
me. 


I  Pi 


m 


VOtlK. 

0U3,  would  have 
line  by  the  hour, 
liked  him  for  his 
Y  hia  usual  price 
rever,  stipulated 
relieve  him  of  all 
I  was  not  pleased 
er  settled,  I  hast- 
T  Mr.  Winthrop 
le  being  spent  on 
jover  I  had  been 
got  home  Mrs. 
[or  me  each  time 
say  anything  to 


CHAPTER  XV. 


A  PLEASANT  SURPRISE. 


"  It  would  do  you  good  to  come  to  our  meeting 
some  Sunday,  just  to  see  Mr.  Bowen's  face,"  Mrs. 
Blake  remarked  to  me  one  day,  some  time  after  the 
tailor,  and  women  folk  had  completed  very  satis- 
factorily their  work. 

"  I  would  like  to  go  for  other  reasons  than  that. 
One  is  to  hear  your  minister  pray  once  more,  and 
also  to  hear  him  preach." 

"  Can't  you  come  next  Sunday  morning?  " 

"Our  service  is  at  the  same  hour.  I  do  not 
think  Mr.  Winthrop  would  like  me  to  leave  our 
own  church.  He  is  very  particular  abou  .  oh 
things." 

"  I  don't  see  why  he  should ;  for  he  don't  set 
much  store  by  religion." 

"  He  may  give  me  permission  to  come  some 
time." 

"  I  wish  he  would  come  too.     Our  meetings  are 


:^!l 


208 


3£ED0LINE  SELWTN'S  WORK. 


80  good  now.  Daniel  has  perfessed  religion." 
She  spoke  in  such  subdued  fashion  I  looked  at  her 
in  surprise,  thinking  she  might  soon  follow  his 
example.  I  think  she  was  waiting  for  me  to  say 
something ;  but  I  felt  myself  so  ignorant  on  this 
great  subject,  I  knew  not  what  to  say. 

"  I've  wished  often  of  late  that  I'd  never  been 
born.  Where  I'm  to  go  to  once  the  breath  leaves 
my  body,  is  an  awful  thought."  She  burst  into  a 
fit  of  bitter  weeping  that  frightened  me. 

"  Christ  is  very  merciful,"  I  faltered,  not  know- 
ing what  to  say. 

"  I've  read  that  and  heard  it  many  a  time ;  but 
we've  been  such  a  heathenish  lot,  I'm  afraid  He's 
left  us  to  ourselves." 

"If  He  has  remembered  Daniel,  that  should 
encourage  you.' 

"He's  not  lived  without  thinking  of  Him  as 
many  years  as  I  have." 

She  sat  with  bowed  head,  quietly  weeping,  the 
picture  of  despair.  I  touched  the  hard,  wrinkled 
hand  that  had  so  often  generously  ministered  to 
the  wants  of  others. 

"Have  you  asked  Christ  to  forgive  you?  " 
"Asked  Him?"  she  sobbed,  "  I've  been  crying 
day  and  night  for  weeks ;  but  I'm  only  getting 
further  away  all  the  time." 

"  Does  your  son,  or  Mr.  Lathrop  know  ?  " 

"  I  reckon  tliey  don't.     I  was  ashamed  for  any 


■  ("ji^.*;.';,'!,.!..! 


WORK. 

rfessed   veligiop." 

ion  I  looked  at  her 
soon   follow   his 

ng  for  me  to  say 

i  ignorant  on  this 

0  say. 

lat  I'd  never  been 

the  breath  leaves 

She  burst  into  a 

ned  rae. 

altered,  not  know- 
many  a  time ;  but 

ot,  I'm  afraid  He's 

aniel,   that  should 

inking  of  Him  as 

lietly  weeping,  the 
;he  hard,  wrinkled 
)usly  ministered  to 

jrgiveyou?" 
"  I've  been  crying 
t  I'm  only  getting 

irop  know  ?  " 

s  ashamed  for  any 


A  PLEASANT  SURPRISE. 


209 


one  to   know;  but  1    couldn't  help  telling  you." 

"1  tliiiik  it  is  because  you  are  ashamed  that 
Christ  don't  bless  you." 

"I've  felt  1  ought  to  get  up  and  tell  them  in 
meeting  what  a  sinner  I've  been  ;  but  I've  always 
prided  myself  on  being  as  good  astlieni  that's  made 
a  perfession,and  they  all  know  what  a  liard,  proud 
wretch  I  am.  I  expect  they'd  say  I  was  a  hypo- 
crite." 

"  I  think  if  you  confessed  to  your  church  what 
you  have  just  told  me,  and  asked  them  to  pray  for 
you,  God  would  make  you  His  child.  It  seems  to 
me  any  petition  Mr.  Lathrop  and  Mr.  Bowen 
would  dare  to  present  would  be  received  and 
granted." 

"It's  liard  on  flesh  and  blood,"  she  moaned. 

I  saw  she  was  in  deep  distress  and  could  not  under- 
stand why  she  was  unwilling  to  make  the  confes- 
sion that  mjorht  bring  peace. 

"  I  wish  I'd  tended  to  tliis  when  I  was  young 
and  my  heart  was  easier  mude  new.  It's  next  to 
impossible  to  make  a  crooked  old  tree  turn  and 
grow  straight." 

"  With  God  nothing  is  impossible,"  I  whispered 
encouragingly. 

"  Yes,  the  minister  said  that  last  night,  and 
looked  straight  at  me.  Maybe  he  saw  trouble  in 
my  face,  and  wanted  to  help  me  in  spite  of  my- 
self."   She  grew  calmer  at  last.     "  Now  1  won't 

14 


lir 


210  MBDOLINE  SELWYN'S  WORK. 

worry  you  any  longer,  and  I  believe  I  feel  better 
for  telling  you.  I  mean  to  tell  them  to-night  what 
a  proud,  stubborn  wretch  I've  been,  and  ask  them 

to  pray  for  me." 

She  got  up  and  put  on  her  shawl  with  a  resolute 
air  as  if  her  mind  was  fully  made  up,  no  matter 
how  hard  the  task  might  be. 

"We'll  step  in  and  see  the  Larkums.  YouU 
hardly  know  them  now,  they're  so  perked  up  and 
tidy.  Deary  me  1  how  far  a  little  help.goes  some- 
times when  folks  have  a  mind  to  help  theirselves. 

On  our  way  she  said,  with  matter-of-fact  calm- 
ness, at  the  same  time  setting  my  blood  thriUing 
through  my  veins:  "  I  want  you  to  talk  with  the 
doctor.  I  just  seen  him  going  to.see  Mrs.  Lar- 
kum,  and  that's  what  made  me  hurry  you  off  so 
soon  from  my  place."  u     .9..   t 

"What  do  you  want  me  to  talk  about ^  1 
naked,  with  some  surprise. 

"Well,  he  was  looking  at  Mr.  Bowen  s  eyes  the 
other  day,  and  he  says  they  can  cure  him  up  in 
New  York,  so  he'll  see  just  as  well  as  ever. 

I  stood  perfectly  still  in  the  road,  my  surprise 
and  gladness  making  me  forgetful  of  everything. 
"Can  this  be  really  true?  "  I  gasped. 

"It's  a  fact;  he  told  mo  so  himself  the  last 
time  he  was  there,  all  about  it.  I  can't  just  mind 
all  the  long  words,  'twould  take  a  dictionary  to 
follow  him  ;  but  the  long  and  the  short  of  it  is  that 


\ 


WORK. 

ieve  I  feel  better 
lem  to-night  what 
len,  and  ask  them 

,vl  with  a  resolute 
ide  up,  no  matter 

Larkums.  You'll 
■to  perked  up  and 
le  help. goes  some- 
1  help  theirselves." 
atter-of-fact  calra- 
my  blood  thrilling 
I  to  talk  with  the 
r  to .  see  Mrs.  Lar- 
hurry  you  off  so 

■i  talk  about?"   I 

.  Bowen's  eyes  the 
n  cure  him  up  in 
veil  as  ever." 
3  road,  my  surprise 
itful  of  everything, 
asped. 

0  himself  the  last 

I  can't  just  mind 

ke  a  dictionary  to 

lie  short  of  it  is  that 


A  PLEASANT  8URI'UI8E. 


»1 


he  can  go  into  a  big  hospital,  mostly  for  such 
things ;  and  there's  a  great  doctor  there  '11  do  it 
for  nothing,  provided  Mr.  iiowen  lets  a  lot  of  stu- 
dents conjo  and  wiitcli.  I  guess  that's  the  way  the 
doctors  gets  their  pay  from  poor  folks;  and  then, 
if  they  die,  they  have  their  bodies  to  cut  and  hack 
into.  But  Mr.  Bt)wen  says  tiic}'  may  briiig  all 
the  people  in  the  city  if  they  want  to.  He  don't 
mind  hew  many  looks  at  him  while  they're  fixing 
his  eyes." 

"When  will  he  go?" 

"  I'm  afraid  that  depends  on  you.  We  told  the 
doctor  so,  and  he  asked  what  made  a  young  lady 
like  you  set  such  store  by  them  ?  " 

"  What  reply  did  you  give  ?  " 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Bowen  answered  for  us.  He  said 
'twas  because  you  were  one  of  the  Lord's  children 
or  was  soon  going  to  be ;  and  one  of  them  rare 
ones  we  read  of  in  books." 

"  Mr.  Bowen  is  too  partial  to  be  a  correct  judge, 
I  am  afraid." 

"  Well,  the  doctor  kind  of  thought  you'd  find  it 
pretty  hard  to  be  much  of  a  Christian  at  Oaklands ; 
but  Mr.  Bowen  said,  not  any  harder  than  them 
folks  what  had  their  heads  out  off  and  were  burnt 
for  their  r'l'gion." 

"  Not  any  harder,"  I  said,  more  to  myself  than 
to  Mrs.  Blake,  but  ah  I  how  hard  it  might  be,  only 
God  could  know. 


\ 


212  MEDOLINE  SELWTirS  WORK. 

«  But  we  must  plan  about  Mr.  Bowen.  Will  it 
cost  very,  very  much  ?  " 

"  My,  no ;  he's  got  a  good  suit  of  clothes,  and 
that's  the  most  that's  wanted.  His  fare  from  here 
to  New  York  and  back  '11  be  the  heft  of  the  ex- 
pense." 

"  If  that  is  all,  he  shall  go  to-morrow.  1  have 
more  than  enough  money  on  hand  for  that,  and  a 
good  deal  of  incidental  expense  beside." 

"  I  reckon  he'll  pay  you  all  back  ;  for  he  was  a 
prime  book-keeper  before  he  lost  his  eyesight. 
He's    a  good  scholar,   too,  and  got  a  first-rate 

salary."  .      ,  ,  .  ., 

"  Then  he  will  leave  me  deeper  in  debt  than 

ever." 

"  What  for  ?  "  she  asked  curiously. 

"  Many  things— his  prayers  most  of  all.    Les- 
sons of  p;.     nee  and  faith,  too,  that  money  never 

could  buy."  ,    ,  ,,      t 

She  remained  silent  until  we  reached  Mrs.  Lar- 
kum's.  We  found  the  doctor  there.  He  was  an 
old  acquaintance.  I  had  met  him  at  a  good  many 
evening  parties,  and  at  a  garden-party  or  two, 
where  he  had  several  times  been  my  partner  in 
lawn  tennis,  and  an  excellent  partner  I  h-d  found 
him,   making  up   for   any   lack  of  skill  on   my 

part. 

His  greeting  was  exceedingly  cordial,  and  m  a 
blunt  way  he  plunged  right  into  the  business  in 


•UM:  ' 


fVORR. 

Bowen.    Will  it 

of  clothes,  and 
is  fare  from  here 
3  heft  of  the  ex- 
morrow.  I  have 
id  for  that,  and  a 
leside." 

,ck  ;  for  he  was  a 
ost  his  eyesight. 
I  got  a  first-rate 

sper  in  debt  than 

)usly. 

nost  of  all.    Les- 

that  money  never 

reached  Mrs.  Lar- 
liere.  He  was  an 
im  at  a  good  many 
den-pavty  or  two, 
jen  my  partner  in 
artner  I  h<\d  found 
k  of  skill  on  my 

y  cordial,  and  in  a 
nto  the  business  in 


A  PLEASANT  SURPRISE. 


213 


hand.    "  We  are  very  glad  to  see  you ;  we  have 
some  grave  advice  to  ask." 

"  I  feel  quite  elated  at  making  one  in  a  medical 
consultation,"  I  said  with  a  smile. 

"  I  am  not  sure  if  you  have  not  done  more  to 
restore  health  in  this  house  than  I.  The  world  is 
too  slow  recognizing  other  healers  than  those  em- 
braced by  the  medical  faculties." 

"It's  my  opinion  doctors  knows  less  than  one 
thinks  of  folks'  insides.  They're  as  apt  to  make 
mistakes  about  people  dying  or  getting  well  as  any 
of  us.  I  don't  put  near  as  much  faith  in  'em  as 
the  common  run  of  folks,"  Mrs.  Blake  said  with 
delicious  candor. 

"  Really,  I  thought  you  had  a  better  opinion  of 
us  as  a  profession  than  that.  If  you  get  sick,  you 
will  of  course  dispense  with  our  services." 

Mrs.  Blake  looked  perplexed,  but  after  a  mo- 
ment's hesitation  she  said,: 

*'  If  I  was  sick  I'd  want  to  see  a  doctor  just  as 
much  as  anybody.  Their  medicine  is  all  right; 
for  God  made  that.  It's  their  judgment  that's  so 
onreliable." 

"And  who  is  to  blame  for  their  judgment?"  the 
doctor  asked  mischievously. 

She  hesitated,  but  her  mother  wit  soon  extri- 
cated her  from  the  difficulty. 

"There's  lots  of  folks  doing  what  the  Lord 
didn't  intend  them  to  do — doctors  as  well  as  others." 


214 


MEDOLINE  SELWYN'S  WORK. 


"  Well  done,  Mrs.  Blake,  I  will  retire  from  the 
field  before  I  am  annihilated  altogethei." 

"  You  needn't  be  in  a  hurry  to  go.  We'd  like 
to  get  this  business  settled  first,"  Mrs.  Bhike  said, 
a  trifle  anxiously,  misunderstanding  the  doctor's 
meaning.  He  threw  me  a  meaning  glance,  and 
afterward  whispered, — "  That  woman  is  a  dia- 
mond in  the  rough.  Given  a  fair  start  in  life, 
she  would  have  found  a  proper  sphere  in  almost 
any  calling." 

"  I  believe  she  would.  She  has  done  more  for 
me  than  any  other  single  individual." 

"She  1 "  he  asked  w ith  keen  surprise. 

"  Yes,  she  wakened  me  from  selfish  ease  to  see 
the  sufferings  of  others,  and  to  realize  my  sister- 
hood to  them." 

"  Yes,  but  you  must  first  have  had  a  heart  to 
be  touched,  or  all  the  Mrs.  Blakes  en  this  planet 
could  not  have  wakened  it." 

"  Even  allowing  your  words  to  be  true,  does  it 
not  show  power  amounting  very  nearly  to  genius 
to  be  able  to  arouse  another  to  a  painful  duty,  and 
help  them  to  take  hold  of  it — I  won't  say,  man- 
fully?" 

"No,  a  better  word  is  needed  in  this  case. 
Woman's  fine  sympathy  and  instinct  are  too  per- 
fect to  be  called  after  any  masculine  term  wholly 
human." 

"  You  can  pay  nice  compliments,"  I  said,  laugh- 


retire  from  the 
jthei." 

go.  We'd  like 
Irs.  Blake  said, 
ng  the  doctor's 
ng  glance,  and 
)inan  is  a  dia- 
,ir  start  in  life, 
phere  in  almost 

done  more  for 
il." 
prise. 

»lfish  ease  to  see 
lalize  ray  sister- 

3  had  a  heart  to 
;s  en  this  planet 

he  true,  does  it 
nearly  to  genius 
ainful  duty,  and 
von't  say,  man- 
id  in  this  case, 
inct  are  too  per- 
ne  term  wholly 

J,"  I  said,  laugh- 


A  PLEASANT  SURPRISE. 


216 


ing.  He  bowed  his  head  gravely — a  very  fine  and 
shapely  head  I  noticed  it  was  too,  set  well  on  a 
neck  and  shoulders  that  betokened  the  trained 
athlete. 

"Now,  doctor.  Miss  Selwyn  can't  generally  stay 
loitering  very  long  among  us  Mill  Roaders,  and 
p'raps  we'd  better  get  our  business  done  up  right 
away.  Anyway  if  Mr.  Bowen  is  anything  like  me, 
he's  getting  fidgetty  by  this  time  to  know  if  he's 
likely  to  get  to  them  big  city  doctors." 

"  I  have  grown  too  intimate  with  patience  to  be 
so  easily  disturbed,"  he  said,  gently. 

"You  would  like  to  get  your  sight?"  I  ques- 
tioned. He  spoke  so  calmly,  the  thought  occurred 
he  might  have  grown  to  love  the  hush  of  dark- 
ness. His  face  flushed.  I  never  knew  before  or 
since  a  person  of  his  years  who  colored  so  easily. 

"  Only  God  can  know  how  I  have  longed  to  see 
the  light,  and  the  face  of  my  fellow  man  ;  but  I 
had  no  hope  until  Death  opened  my  eyes." 

His  voice  trembled  with  emotion. 

"  What  a  privilege  to  give  that  man  his  sight," 
I  murmured  to  the  doctor. 

"  The  privilege  belongs  to  you,  I  believe." 

"  Oh,  no  indeed.  I  was  thinking  of  the  skill  of 
your  profession.    It  seems  almost  Godlike." 

"  We  do  our  work  mainly  for  money.  In  this 
case  I  am  told  you  supply  that." 

Mrs.  Blakfc  was  waiting  impatiently. 


216 


MEDOLINE  HELWYN'S  WORK. 


"  What  is  to  be  done  ?  Can  Mr.  Bowen  go  im- 
mediately ?  "    I  asked. 

"To-morrow,  if  he  is  ready.  I  have  already 
written  to  the  doctor  who  will  take  charge  of  his 
case.  He  is  famous  for  diseases  of  the  eye,  especi- 
ally cataract,  wliich  is  the  trouble  here." 

"  He  will  need  some  one  to  accompany  him  ? " 
I  asked  anxiously.  "  This  seemed  the  chief  dif- 
ficulty now. 

"Not  necessarily.  The  conductor  is  a  kind- 
hearted  fellow,  and  would  see  to  him.  But  a  friend 
of  mine  is  going  to-morrow,  and  he  will  not  leave 
him  until  ho  sees  him  safe  in  the  hospital." 

"  Could  he  be  ready  so  soon  ?  "  I  turned  with 
my  question  to  Mrs.  Blake. 

"I've  got  everything  ready  only  just  to  pack  in 
a  valise — tine  shirts  and  all,  we've  sat  up  till  after 
midnight  making  fine  shirts  and  things,  me  and  two 
other  women." 

"  And  you  dare  to  say  after  that  that  it  is  I  who 
must  have  the  credit  of  this  ?  "  I  turned  a  look 
of  reproach  on  the  doctor,  as  I  spoke  the  words  so 
low,  only  he  could  hear  them. 

"Am  I  really  going  to-morrow?" — Mr.  Bowen 
asked,  his  face  turning  deathly  pale, — "  possibly  to 
come  back  to  see  all  your  faces  ?  Miss  Selwyn,  I 
hope  you  will  look  to  me  as  I  have  always  pictured 
you." 


! 


WOBK. 

yjii:  Bowen  go  im- 

I  havo  already 
ako  charge  of  his 
of  the  eye,  especi- 
t!  here." 

cconipany  him  ?  " 
led  the  chief  dif- 

luctor  is  a  kind- 

liim.   But  a  friend 

lie  will  not  leave 

hospital." 

"    I  turned  with 

ly  jost  to  pack  in 
^e  sat  up  till  after 
hings,  me  and  two 

•vt  that  it  is  I  who 

I  turned  a  look 

poke  the  words  so 

tv?" — Mr.  Bowen 

lie, — "  possibly  to 

Miss  Selwyn,  I 

re  always  pictured 


T 


A  PLEASANT  HUIiPRISE. 


217 


"  I  think  she  will  not  disappoint  your  expecta- 
tions," the  doctor  said,  gallantly. 

"  I  dunno  about  that.  I  guess  he  most  looks  to 
see  an  angel,"  Mrs.  Blake  remarked  dryly.  In  the 
ripple  of  laughter  that  followed,  I  turned  to  little 
Freddie  who  was  crying  softly  with  his  face  hidden 
in  a  chair. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  my  little  man  ?  " 
"Why  you  see.  Miss  Selwyn,  Grandad's  going 
away,  and  they're  going  to  put  a  sharp  knife  in  his 
eyes ;  and  maybe  he  will  die."  He  burst  into  a 
louder  fit  of  weeping.  His  mother  drew  him  hastily 
into  her  bedroom  and  shut  the  door — ^her  own 
face  pale,  and  almost  as  sorrowful  as  the  little 
lad's. 

*'  You  must  tell  them  there  is  no  danger,  doctor." 
I  followed  Mrs.  Larkum  into  her  room  and  found 
that  she  shared  Freddie's  fears  and  grief. 

"There  is  not  the  slightest  danger  to  life  or 
health  in  the  operation,"  I  assured  her,  when  her 
countenance  began  to  brighten. 

*'  You  see  we've  had  so  much  misfortune  I  can't 
sense  that  father  may  get  his  sight,  and  we  be  com- 
fortable as  we  used  to  be." 

"You  must  have  faith  in  God.  The  darkest 
time  has  been  with  you  '  the  hour  before  the  dawn. ' 
Now  I  will  give  you  money  for  present  necessities 
for  your  father.  If  more  is  required,  it  will  be  pro- 
vided when  necessary."   I  took  out  my  purse  which, 


.:4 : 
'  •ji' 

ft 


fc»lf 


218 


MEDOHNE  SELWYN'S  WORK. 


T 


now  tliat  I  was  earning  money  of  ray  own,  I  car- 
ried about  with  me  quite  recklessly,  and  gave  her 
ten  crisp  notes  that  would  buy  her  father  a  good 
many  necessaries,  beside  his  car  fare.  Slie  did  not 
try  to  thank  me  but  her  look  was  enough  to  as- 
sure me  she  appreciated  my  efforts  for  their  well- 
being. 

That  evening,  as  I  sat  chatting  by  the  dining- 
room  fire  with  Mrs.  Flaxman,  waiting  for  the 
dinner-bell  to  ring,  I  told  her  of  the  beautiful 
surprise  I  had  met  that  day,  and  how  I  had  given 
them  the  money  for  him  to  start  the  following 
morning  in  search  of  sight. 

"  Why,  where  did  you  get  the  money  ?  I  thought 
you  spent  every  cent  except  your  weekly  allowance 
when  we  were  in  New  York." 

I  hesitated,  flushing  rather  guiltily ;  for  this  was 
the  first  real  secret  of  my  life. 

"  You  have  not  been  selling  your  jewelry,  I 
hope,"  she  said,  quite  sternly.  "Mr.  Winthrop 
would  not  easily  forgive  such  an  act,  after  you  had 
been  entrusted  with  it  too." 

"I  have  not  sold  anything  that  belonged  to 
anyone  but  myself." 

She  looked  at  me  closely,  and  my  eyes  fell  before 
her  gaze.  "It  is  not  idle  curiosity,  believe  me, 
Medoline,  that  makes  me  so  insistent.  I  wish  you 
would  explain  how  you  got  the  money.  You  are 
unacquainted  with  the  habits  of  this  country,  an^ 


1_ 


WOliK. 

;  ray  own,  I  ear- 
ly, and  gave  her 
ler  father  a  good 
ire.  Slie  did  not 
as  enough  to  as- 
ts  for  their  well- 

g  by  the  dining- 
waiting  for  the 
of  the  beautiful 
how  I  had  given 
iTt  the  following 

loney  ?  I  thought 
veekly  allowance 

tily ;  for  this  was 

your  jewelry,  I 

"Mr.  Winthrop 

lot,  after  you  had 

;hat  belonged  to 

ay  eyes  fell  before 
)8ity,  believe  me, 
tent.  I  wish  you 
money.  You  are 
this  oountry,  anc| 


A  PLEASANT  SUlt PRISE. 


219 


may  have  been  unwittingly  led  into  some  indis- 
cretion." 

"  What  I  have  done  is  a  very  common  thing  in 
Europe  even  among  the  best  of  people." 

"  Do  you  mean  selling  your  cast-off  garments  ?  " 

"  Why,  Mrs.  Flaxman,  you  have  as  poor  an 
opinion  of  me  as  Mr.  Winthrop.  I  wonder  what  is 
the  reason  my  friends  have  so  little  confidence  in 
me  ?  "  I  said,  despairingly. 

"  But,  dear,  there  is  some  mystery ;  and  young 
ladies,  outside  of  tragic  stories,  are  expected  to  live 
lives  of  crystal  clearness." 

"  I  will  tell  you,  for  fear  you  imagine  I  have 
done  some  terrible  thing.  When  we  were  in  New 
York,  I  hunted  up  a  picture-dealer  and  submitted 
a  number  of  my  sketches,  that  I  had  hidden  away 
in  my  trunk,  to  him,  and  he  consented  to  act  as  my 
agent.  For  one  good  sized  painting  of  Oaklands  he 
has  given  me  fifty  dollars.  Perhaps  that  Mr. 
Bovyer  bought  it,  I  have  felt  afraid  that  he  did ; 
but  any  way  the  money  will  do  good  ;  be  the 
indirect  means  of  giving  sight  to  one  of  Christ's 
own  followers.  All  the  afternoon,  like  the  refrain 
of  some  beautiful  melody,  those  words  have  been 
sounding  in  my  ears  :  '  Inasmuch  as  ye  have  done 
it  unto  one  of  the  least  of  these,  my  brethren,  ye 
have  done  it  unto  me,'  "  Over  my  burning  cheeks 
a  few  bitter  tears  were  falling,  while  a  mad 
desire    seized   me    to  leave  Oaklands,   and   the 


220 


MEDOLINE  SELWry\S  WOliK. 


cold,  selfish  life  it  imposed,  and  try  in  some  purer 
air  to  live  as  conscieuco  urged.  I  walked  to  tlie 
farthest  end  of  the  long  room  without  waiting 
for  Mrs.  Flaxraan's  reply,  and  stood  looking 
out  into  the  bright  moonlit  air.  Far  away  1 
could  see  the  moonbeams  dimpling  on  the  waters, 
making  a  long,  shinunering  [)athway  to  the  distant 
horizon,  while  in  tlie  frosty  sky  a  few  bold  stars 
were  shining,  scarce  dimmed  by  the  moon's 
brightness.  The  thought  came  to  me  that,  in  a 
few  weeks,  Mr.  Bowen  might  be  thrilled  by  just 
such  a  vision  of  delight.  I  turned  abruptly  to 
tell  Mrs.  Flaxman  I  could  never  go  back  to  the  old 
life  of  selfish  ease,  when  such  opportunities  for 
helpfulness  were  given  me,  when  I  met  her 
face  to  face.  She  gave  me  a  look  I  will  never 
forget. 

"Medoline,  can  you  forgive  me  those  unjust 
suspicions  ?  " 

"  Yes,  if  you  won't  interfere  with  my  picture 
selling,"     I  said  joyously. 

"  Hush !  Mr.  Winthrop  may  hear  you.  I  think 
he  is  coming.  But  you  may  sell  all  the  pictures 
you  can,  only  don't  speak  of  it  now." 

Mr.  Winthrop  was  waiting  for  us.  Ashe  looked 
at  me  he  said  : — "  You  seem  to  have  more  mental 
sunshine  than  your  share — your  face  is  so  bright. 
Possibly  you  have  been  having  a  specially  happy 
season  with  your  bereaved  ones." 


'  I 


'!«« '-t .... 


WOliK. 

try  ill  some  purer 

I  walked  to  the 

without  waiting 

I    stood    looking 

fvir.     Far   away  1 

ig  on  the  waters, 

vay  to  the  distant 

a  few  bold  stars 

by    the    moon's 

to  me  that,  in  a 

e  thrilled  by  just 

irned  abruptly  to 

JO  back  to  the  old 

opportunities  for 

rhen   I    met    her 

look  I  will  never 

me  those  unjust 

with  my  picture 

ear  you.  I  think 
ill  all  the  pictures 
aw." 

us.     Ashe  looked 

have  more  mental 

face  is  so  bright. 

a  specially  happy 


! 


A  PLEASANT  STTRPRISS. 


221 


''With  one  of  them  I  have  been  more  than 
happy." 

"May  I  ask  the  name  of  this  favornd  individ- 
ual?" 

"  It  is  Mr.  Bowen,  the  blind  man.'' 

"  Ah,  then,  you  are  finding  the  widowers  most 
congenial.  They  do  not  dissolve  into  tears  so 
readily  as  the  widows ;  and  there  may  be  other 
fascinations.  Really,  I  sliall  be  compelled  to  forbid 
such  intimacies." 

"  He  is  going  to  New  York  to-morrow  morn- 
ing, with  the  expectation  of  having  his  sight 
restored,  after  being  blind  nearly  twelve  years." 

"  I  presume  he  is  very  poor,  else  you  would  not 
take  such  strong  interest  in  him." 

"  He  has  no  money.  In  other  respects  he  is  the 
richest  person  I  ever  knew." 

"  Ah,  he  is  a  most  remarkable  individual. 
However,  I  dare  say  a  little  money  will  not  come 
amiss  to  him,  notwithstanding  his  wealth.  You 
will  want  another  quarter's  instalment." 

"  Is  my  quarter  up  ?  "  I  caught  Mrs.  Flaxman's 
warning  look,  and  spoke  rather  guiltily. 

"  Not  quite,  but  this  is  a  peculiarly  urgent  case. 
Probably  he  is  wholly  dependent  on  your  bounty." 

"  Doctor  Mackenzie  told  me  that  the  doctor  in 
New  York  won't  charge  anything  for  removing 
the  cataract  from  his  eyes." 

"  I  see  you  have  gone  about  it,  in  a  very  business' 


t  i 


222 


MEDOLINE  8ELWrN'8  WORK. 


)M 


'^MI 


like  manner.  Does  MacKenzie  charge  for  hia 
advice?" 

"Why,  no,  indeed;  surely  all  men  are  not 
heartless." 

"  In  money  mattei-s  they  arc,  more  or  less  ; 
possibly  widowers  should  be  excepted." 

"  It  is  a  pity  some  others  sliould  not  lose  a  wife 
or  two.  A  few  might  require  to  lose  half  a  dozen, 
at  least." 

*'  That  would  be  cruel.  Think  what  an  upset- 
ting of  one's  plans  and  business  arrangements 
generally  that  would  entail." 

"  It  might  prove  an  excellent  discipline.  Noth- 
ing short  of  an  earthquake,  I  believe,  would  teach 
some  men  kindliness  and  their  brotherhood  with 
pain." 

He  received  my  remark  with  such  unruffled 
serenity  that  I  was  angry  with  myself  for  engaging 
in  a  wordy  warfare  with  him,  when  he  was  sure  to 
be  victorious.  He  sat  with  us  for  a  short  time 
after  dinner,  chatting  so  graciously  that  I  came  to 
the  conclusion  he  was  not,  after  all,  so  out  of  sym- 
pathy with  my  litle  benevolent  projects  as  his 
words  often  implied.  When  he  rose  to  go  he 
came  to  me,  and,  taking  out  his  pocket-book  counted 
out  fifty  dollars  and  laid  them  in  my  hand.  He 
paused  a  moment  with  the  pocket-book  still  open. 

"  This  is  a  special  case,  little  one,"  he  said,  kindly. 


kiiiv^ 


a  WORK. 

,ie  charge   for   hia 

all    men  are    not 

are,   more  or  less  ; 

cepted." 

)uld  not  lose  a  wife 

0  lose  half  a  dozen, 

nk  what  an  upset- 
ne»s   arrangements 

t  discipline.  Noth- 
elieve,  would  teach 
r  brotherhood  with 

ith  such  unruffled 
myself  for  engaging 
vhen  he  was  sure  to 
3  for  a  short  time 
usly  that  I  came  to 
r  all,  so  out  of  sym- 
mt  projects  as  his 
he  rose  to  go  he 
)ocket-book  counted 

1  in  my  hand.  He 
jket-book  still  open. 
>ne,"  he  said,  kindly. 


II 


A  PLEASANT  SURPRISK. 


223 


"May  I  be  permitted  to  contribute  something 
for  your  friend  ?  " 

He  laid  another  note  in  my  hand,  but  I  did  not 
wait  to  see  the  amount.  I  started  to  my  feet 
impulsively, 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Winthrop,  I  must  confess  to  you.  I 
have   not  been  real  honest.     Won't  you  forgive 

me?" 

I  felt  the  tears  rush  to  my  eyes,  and  my  lips 
quivered  like  some  frightened  child's,  making  me 
feel  sadly  ashamed  of  myself.     He  looked  startled. 

"  "What  is  it,  Madoline?  " 

"  I  earned  the  money  myself.  I  have  been  sell- 
ing pictures." 

"  Is  that  the  worst  offense  you  have  to  confess?" 
he  asked,  with  a  keen  look  into  my  upturned  face. 

"  It  is  the  worst  just  now,"  I  faltered. 

"Very  well,  then,  I  will  forgive  you;  but  I 
must  stipulate  to  see  your  pictures  before  they  go 
to  market  after  this,  and  also  that  you  consult  with 
me  first  before  launching  into  other  business  en- 
terprises. You  might  be  tempted  with  something 
not  quite  so  suitable  for  a  young  lady  as  picture- 
selling." 

"  You  are  so  kind  to  me,  Mr.  Winthrop,  I  will 
tell  you  everything  after  this." 

"  No  rash  promises,  please.  Before  the  winter 
is  over  you  will  be  plunged  into  tears  and  distress 
again  over  some  fresh  exploit." 


Jl 


^h 


22i 


MEtoOLmS  SELWYirS  WOliK. 


"I  won't  mind  a  few  tears  if  I  get  your  forgWe- 
ness  in  the  end." 

He  went  directly  to  liis  study,  leaving  Mrs. 
Flaxman  and  myself  to  the  cheerful  quiet  of  (-ur 
fireside.     She  turned  to  mo  saying, 

"  Tell  me  all  about  your  blind  friend,  Medoline. 
How  you  first  got  to  know  liini,  and  what  he  is 
Uke." 

I  very  gladly  gave  her  as  full  a  picture  as  I  was 
able  of  the  Larkunis  and  Mr.  Bowen,  their  poverty 
and  his  goodness  included. 

*'  You  have  made  all  these  discoveries  in  a  few 
months,  and  been  doing  so  much  for  them,  and 
here  have  I  been  living  beside  tliem  for  years  and 
did  not  even  know  of  their  existence.  .  What  makes 
the  difference  in  us,  MedoUuo?"  she  exclaimed 
sorrowfully. 

"  I  think  God  must  have  planned  my  meeting 
in  the  train  with  Mrs.  Blake.  I  would  not  have 
known  but  *or  her." 

"I  expeci  ne  plans  many  an  opportunity  for  us 
to  serve  our  generation,  but  we  are  too  selfishly 
indolent  to  do  the  work  he  puts  in  our  way." 

"  When  I  came  to  Oaklands  at  first  it  seemed  as 
if  ray  life  was  completed,  and  I  wondered  how  I 
was  to  occupy  the  days,  and  years  stretching  out 
so  long  before  me.  Now  I  believe  I  could  find 
work  to  occupy  me  for  a  thousand  years  ;  that  is, 
if  Mr.  Winthrop  lived  too,  and  continued  to  help 


^il»- 


wonK. 

get  your  forglve- 

dy,  leaving  Mrs. 
3rful  quiet  of  our 

friend,  Medoline. 
,  mid  what  he  is 

I  picture  as  I  was 
ven,  their  poverty 

scoveries  in  <i  few 
ch  for  them,  and 
liem  for  years  and 
ice.  .  What  makes 
"  she  exclaimed 

nned  my  meeting 
[  would  not  have 

Dpportunity  for  us 
i  are  too  selfishly 
in  our  way." 
t  first  it  seemed  as 
'.  wondered  how  I 
ars  stretching  out 
ieve  I  could  find 
nd  years  ;  that  is, 
continued  to  help 


A  PLEASANT  SU  RPR  I  BE. 


22B 


nie  with  my  readinj^  luul  studica,"  I  added,  think- 
ing how  much  tlio  latter  emplnyment  added  to  my 
enjoyment. 

"  If  Mr.  Boweu  gets  his  eyesight,  that  will  bo  a 
greatly  added  source  of  satisfaction  to  you,"  she 
said,  wistfully. 

"  Yes,  I  shall  seem  to  be  looking  at  the  green 
fields,  and  flowers,  and  starry  skies  through  his 
eyes." 

"  You  are  as  glad  to  have  him  so  richly  benefited 
through  your  means,  as  if  he  were  rich  and  famous." 

"  Why,  nuich  more  so.  Think  what  a  change 
there  will  lie  in  his  circumstances  now." 

"  Medoline,  I  think  your  mother's  prayers  will  be 
answered." 

I  turned  around  eagerly, "Was  she  a  real  Chris- 
tian, Mrs.  Flaxman?" 

"  Yes,  a  real  one,  especially  after  her  children 
were  born.  Her  great  desire  for  them  was  that 
they  might  all  ba  pure  and  unspotted  from  tho 
world.  All  of  them,  save  you,  are  with  her  in 
Heaven.  You  may  have  a  life  of  peculiar  tempta- 
tion, but  I  believe  you  will  l)e  brought  out  of  it 
among  the  pure  in  heart  at  last." 

"  Why  should  my  life  have  peculiar  temptations, 
Mrs.  Flaxman?"  I  asked  anxiously. 

"  I  cannot  explain  to  you  now  my  reasons  for 
thinking  so.     Some  day  I  may  tell  you." 

16 


i 


226 


MEDOLINE  SELWTirS  WORK. 


r1 


"  I  suppose  it  is  because  I  am  not  like  other  girls 
of  my  age,"  I  said  with  a  sigh. 

"  No  dear,  that  is  not  the  reason.  I  should  not 
have  spoken  so  unguardedly." 

"  I  might  try  to  overcome  the  temptations  if  I 
were  warned  of  their  nature." 

"You  are  a  persevering  child,  Medoline — ^but 
still  only  a  child  in  heart." 

"  I  am  over  eighteen,  Mrs.  Flaxman.  1  wonder 
why  you  and  Mr.  Winthrop  persist  in  making  me 
out  a  child.     When  will  I  be  a  woman? " 

"  Not  till  your  heart  gets  wakened." 

"  I  wonder  when  that  will  be.  Does  it  mean 
love  and  marriage,  Mrs.  Flaxman  ?  " 

"  It  means  the  former ;  the  latter  may  not  follow 

with  you." 

"Why  not?  But  there,  I  do  not  want  to  leave 
you  and  Mr.  Winthrop  and  Oaklands.  No  man 
could  tempt  me  from  you.  But  what  did  you 
mean  by  saying  that  I  jaight  love  and  yet  not 

marry  ? "  ^    . 

"  Because  you  are  too  true  to  your  woman  s  in- 
stincts to  marry  any  one  unless  it  was  the  man 
you  loved." 

I  fell  into  a  brown  study  over  her  words,  and 
the  conversation  was  not  again  resumed. 


*-^''IM: 


(  WORK. 

not  like  other  girls 

ion.    I  should  not 

e  temptations  if  I 

Id,  Medoline — ^but 

laxman.    I  wonder 

rsist  in  making  me 

woman?" 

kened." 

be.    Does  it  mean 

an?" 

tter  may  not  follow 

»  not  want  to  leave 
►aklands.  No  man 
But  what  did  you 
I  love  and  yet  not 

to  your  woman's  in- 
ess  it  was  the  man 

)ver  her  words,  and 
I  resumed. 


V 


CHAPTER  XVI. 


HOPE  REALIZED. 


RS.  Larkuni's  recovery  was  slow,  and  it  re- 
quired all  tlie  nourishing  food  we  could 
provide  to  start  the  springs  of  life  working 
healthfully.  Her  mind  had  dwelt  so  long  upon  her 
bereavement,  and  dark  outlook  into  the  future  that 
a  naturally  robust,  and  well-fed  person  might  have 
succumbed,  but  when  to  a  delicate  organization  had 
been  added  the  most  meagre  fare  possible  to  support 
human  existence,  it  was  no  wonder  nature  rebelled. 
It  was  a  new  experience  to  me,  and  a  very  agree- 
able one,  to  watch  the  pinched  faces  of  the  children 
grow  round  and  rosy,  and  to  hear  their  merry 
laughter. 

The  mother  waited  with  feverisii  anxiety  for 
tidings  from  her  father,  but  for  several  weeks  no 
word  came;  at  last  she  began  to  fear  he  might 
have  died  under  the  strain  of  the  operation.    Mrs. 


'  '^  1. 


flfl'i 


I 


228  MEDOLJNE  SELWYN^S  WORK. 

Blake  began  to  get  anxious  too,  while  thei^  flirted 
before  h!r  faney  gruesome  thoughts  a.  to  wha 
xnigbt  have  beei.  done  to  the  poor  body  left  to  the 
care  of  those  heartless  doctors. 

"I  can't  see  why  they  take  such  debght  in 
mangling  dead  people  to  see  how  they  are  put 
;^ge?hei?  With  all  their  trying  they'll  never  be 
able  to  make  a  body  themselves."  ,  ,    „  ,„ 

ult  is  in  that  way  they  have  learned  how  to 
cure   diseases  and  relieve   pain "  I   assured  her 
.  We  ought  to  be  grateful  to  them  for  taking  so 
much  trouble  to  relieve  us  of  our  miseries. 

"  I  dare  say  we'd  ought,  I  never  thought  of  it 
that  way  before  ;  in  fact  I've  been  rather  sot  ag  in 
doctors.  Perhaps  if  they  hadn't  cut  into  dead 
folks'  eyes,  they  couldn't  have  done  for  the  likes 

of  Mr.  Bowen." 

"  Assuredly  not ;  and  sometimes  the  very  great^t 
doctors  bequeathe  their  own  bodies  to  the  dis- 
secting  room  ;  especially  if  they  die  of  some  mys- 

terious  disease.'  , 

''That  is  good  of  them.    I've  always  reckoned 

doctors  a  pretty  tight  lot,  who  worked  for  their 

money  jest  the  same's  the  Mill  hands. 

»  No  doubt  many  of  them  do  ;  but  some  of  them 

are  almost  angelic  in  their  sympatliy  for  the  suffer- 

ing,  and  their  longing  to  lessen  it. 

»  I  believe  you  can  see  more  goodness  m  folks 

than  any  one  I  know.    Now  when  I  get  cross 


kh ... 


wonK. 

hile  there  flitted 
ghta  as  to  what 
•  body  left  to  the 

such  delight  in 
)W  they  are  put 
;  they'll  never  be 

learned  how  to 
,"  I  assured  her. 
lem  for  taking  so 
?  miseries." 
ver  thought  of  it 
in  rather  sot  ag'in 
I't  cut  into  dead 
lone  for  the  likes 

ss  the  very  greatest 
)odies  to  the  dis- 
'  die  of  some  mys- 

0  always  reckoned 
worked  for  their 

iiivnds." 

;  but  some  of  them 

lathy  for  the  suffer- 

it." 

1  goodnesG  In  folks 
when   I   get  cross 


UOFE  REALIZED. 


229 


(U» 


with  folks  when  they  don't  do  as  I  think  they 
ought,  what  you  say  comes  to  my  mind  ;  and  be- 
fore 1  know  I  get  to  making  excuses,  too.  It's 
done  me  a  sight  of  good  being  with  you." 

"  And  you  have  done  mc  good, — talcen  me  out 
of  self,  and  taught  me  to  think  of  others.  1  do 
not  know  how  I  sliould  have  been  filling  up  my 
vacant  hours  but  for  you." 

"  I  wish  somebody  would  say  that  much  to  me," 
Mrs.  Larkum  said,  sorrowfully.  "  I  don't  think  I 
am  any  use  to  any  one." 

"  With  these  lovely  children  to  care  for,  what 
more  can  you  ask  than  to  work  for  them?" 

"  Yes,  I  forget  charity  begins  at  home." 

"  If  you  hadn't  fell  in  with  me  that  day  in  tho 
cars,  and  got  helping  us  here  on  the  Mill  Road 
you'd  a  found  some  other  good  work  to  do.  Most 
young  ladies  like  you  would  a  turned  up  their 
noses  at  a  plain  old  creature  like  me,  skeered  most 
out  of  their  wits,  talking  so  bold  like  as  I  did ;  but 
you  answered  mo  so  kind  like,  I  never  thought 
you  were  anything  but  common  folks  like  myself. 

"  I  am  very  thankful  to  God  you  did  meet  her 
that  day.  Most  like  I  would  have  been  dead  by 
this  time,  and  father  and  the  children  on  the 
parish,"  Mrs.  Larkum  said,  with  a  shudder. 

"  Yes,  I  am  right  glad,  myself,"  Mrs.  Blake  said, 
very  complacently. 

"  She  might  have  been  aQiuui'.g  herself  visiting 


230 


MKUOLINE  SELWYN'8  WOUK. 


with  the  aristocracy,"  Mrs.  Liirkuin  contiiiued, 
"and  dressing  up  every  fine  day,  instead  of  coming 
among  us,  bringing  better  than  sunshine  with  her. 
Dr.  MacKeuzie  toUl  me  folks  wondered  at  hev 
coming  among  us  so  much ;  but  he  said  he  wished 
more  of  her  class  was  like  her." 

"Now  I  must  leave  you;"  I  said,  rising  sud- 
denl.  "When  you  begin  to  praise  me,  I  shall 
always  go  away." 

"  Don't  you  like  us  to  tell  you  how  much  you 
have  helped  us  ?  "  Mrs.  Larkum  asked  wistfully. 
"  It  does  me  so  much  good  to  talk  about  you." 

"  I  believe  helping  you  gives  me  more  pleasure 
than  anything  I  do ;  so  why  thank  me  for  what  I 

enjoy  ?  "  , 

"  You  won't  mind  your  own  kind  talking  about 
you  coming  to  us,  and  doing  so  much  for  the  poor, 

will  you  ?  " 

"  Certainly  not.  While  I  am  not  dependent  on 
my  neighbors  for  my  peace  of  mind,  I  will  come  to 
see  you  two  as  often  as  I  can  do  anything  for 
you." 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  that ;  I  don't  get  over  one 
of  your  visits  for  days.  They  brace  me  up  to 
take  hold  of  life,  and  do  the  best  I  can  for  father 
and  the  children." 

"I  guess  if  folks  does  talk  about  you,  they 
talked  about  one  that  was  better'n  any  of  us.  I 
was  reading  the  other  day  about  the  respectable 


WORK. 

kuin  coiitiuued, 
iistead  of  coming 
lushiue  with  her. 
ivondered  at  her 
le  said  he  wished 

said,  rising  sud- 
raise  me,  I  shall 

11  how  much  you 
I  asked  wistfully, 
k  about  you." 
me  more  pleasure 
ik  me  for  what  I 

dnd  talking  about 
iiiuch  for  the  poor, 

not  dependent  on 
ind,  I  will  come  to 
I  do  anything  for 

ion't  get  over  one 
r  brace  me  up  to 
t  I  can  for  father 

:  about  you,  they 
;er'n  any  of  us.  I 
at  the  respectable 


nOPE  REALIZED. 


231 


ones  in   their  days  complaining  how  Christ  eat 
wih  publicans   aJid    siunei.,"   Mi..  Blake  said, 
criving  me  one  of  her  strong  encouraging  glances. 
^  '"Thauk  you,  Mrs.  Blake  ;  after  that  I  can  brave 

'"rftwtap'laterl  walked  in  the  early  afternoon 

to  the   Mill    Road.      Cook    had  prepared  some 

pecial  dainties  for  Mrs.  Larkum ;  so  with  a  smaU 

lunch  basket  on  my  arm  I  started  on  my  errand 

°^"had'been  standing  at  my  easel  a  good  part  of 
the  forenoon,  and  the  satisfaction  that  comes  from 
fafthful  work  done,  together  with  the  assurance 
from  Mrs.  Larkum  that  my  visits  carried  with 
them    something    better    than    sunshine,  I  trod 
swiftly  over  the  frozen  streets,  quite  content  with 
uT  and  its  developments.    I  met  Dr.  MacKen^e 
on  the  way.     He  stopped  to  shake  hands  and  with 
an   almost  boyish  eagerness,  said:    "Have  you 

heard  the  news?  " 

»  Not  anything  special.    I  hope  you  have  some 

good  news  for  me."  , 

"Well,  our  friend  Mr.  Bowen  has  been  heard 

from.    The  doctor  has  performed  his  miracle. 
»  Can  he  see  as  well  as  ever  ?  "  I  cried  joyously. 

"  I  believe  so." 

I  could  not  keep  back  the  troublesome  tears. 
»I  am  so  glad  you  told  me,"  I  murmured  an4 
then  nodded  my  adieus  rather  abruptly,  for  I  w.^ 


232 


MELOLU.^  SELWYN'8  WORK. 


ashamed  of  my  emotion.     It  seemed  perfectly  fit- 
ting  to  me,  as  I  Will  lied  briskly  along,  that  Dr.  Mac- 
Kenzie  should  be  the  first  to  tell  me  the  news ; 
for,  but  for  him,  we  should  never  have  thought  of 
making  the  experiment.     Tiiat  very  evening  I  met 
him  at  a  party  at  Mrs.  Silas  Markham's,  when  he 
gave    me    the  full  particulars    I  was  too  tender 
hearted  to  hear  in  the  morning.     In  answer  to  his 
inquiries,  the  occulist  had  written  to   him  some 
special  circumstances  of  the  case.     He  described 
Mr.  Bowen's  extreme  patience.     «  Sucli  an  instance 
of  perfect  trust  in  God  is  refreshing  to  meet  with," 
he  wrote ;  "and  but  f(u-  tliis  his  case  would  probar 
bly  have  proved  hopeless,  since  it  was  one  of  the 
worst  cases  we  have  treated  successfully." 

"  His  religion  lias  helped  him  wonderfully  all 
through  his  terrible  affliction.  I  wonder  will  he 
be  just  as  devout  as  ever  ?  "  I  said. 

"  I  think  so.  He  is  not  made  of  the  stuff  that 
forgets  favors  received  from  God  or  man." 

"  I  think  he  will  have  stronger  reasons  than  mere 
gratitude  to  keep  him  close  to  the  Lord,"  I  said, 
thinking  of  the  joy  he  had  in  communion  with  the 
Divine,  even  amid  his  darkness  and  poverty. 

That  same  day,  after  leaving  the  doctor,  I  pro- 
ceeded first  to  Mrs.  Blake's  to  tell  her  the  news. 
She  threw  a  shawl  over  her  head  and  accompanied 
me  directly  to  Mrs.  Larkum's.  We  found  her  sit- 
ting in  a  comfortable,  though  rather  ancient  easy- 


t  WORK. 

jmed  perfectly  fifc- 
mg,  that  Dr.  Mac- 
tell  me  the  news ; 
sr  have  thought  of 
eiy  evening  I  mci. 
rklium's,  when  he 
I  was  too  tender 
In  answer  to  his 
ton  to   him  some 
3e.     He  described 
"Sucli  an  instance 
ng  to  meet  with," 
case  would  probar 
it  was  one  of  the 
essfully." 
n  wonderfully  all 
:  wonder  will  he 
id. 

of  the  stuff  that 

or  man." 
reasons  than  mere 
lie  Lord,"  I  said, 
imunion  with  the 
nd  poverty, 
he  doctor,  I  pro- 
W  her  the  news, 
and  accompanied 
Ve  found  her  sit- 
tier  ancient  easy- 


UOPE  REALIZED. 


233 


chair,  which  I  had  exhumed,  along  with  a  good 
many  otlier  useful  articles,  from  the  garret  at  Oak- 
lands.  The  two  older  children  we  interrupted 
taking  a  lesson  at  their  mother's  knee.  The 
primer  was  gladly  laid  aside,  while  the  children 
came  coyly  to  my  side,  quite  certain  there  was  a 
delectable  bite  for  them  somewhere  in  my  pockets. 
I  dismissed  that  care  from  my  mind  by  dividing 
the  sweets,  and  then  gave  Miw.  Larkum  her  lunch. 
She  sat  enjoying  the  dainty  fo<Kl,  sharing  now 
and  then  a  taste  with  the  little  ones,  who  had  a 
keen  appreciation  for  Oaklands'  cookery.  I  sat 
watching  the  group,  glancing  now  and  then  at 
Mrs.  Blake's  eloquent  face  with  a  good  deal  of 
satisfaction.  I  wivs  anxious  to  break  the  news 
carefully  and  scarce  knew  how  to  begin,  when 
Mi-s.  Larkum  looked  up  at  me  eagerly  and  said : 

"  Have  you  any  news  from  father  ?  " 

"  What  makes  you  think  she  has  news  ?  "  Mrs. 
Blake  asked. 

"  I  dreamed  last  night  you  brought  me  a  letter, 
and  I  was  afraid  to  open  it,  and  woke  up  all  trem- 
bling and  frightened.  When  I  saw  you  coming 
to-day,  my  heart  stood  still  for  a  second  or  two." 

"  Your  dream  is  partly  true,  only  the  news  is 
good.  Dr.  MacKenzie  told  me  they  have  every 
hope  that  your  father  will  see  as  well  as  ever." 

I  was  not  prepared  for  the  effect  my  words  pro- 
duced.   A  pallor  overspread  her  face  ;  before  Mrs, 


234 


MEDOLINE  SELWYN'S  WOUK. 


Blake  could  reach  lier  she  had  fainted.  That  good 
woman  was  always  ready  for  any  emergency. 
She  very  calmly  laid  her  down  on  the  floor  and 
proceeded  to  bring  her  back  to  consciousness. 
The  children  raised  a  dismal  wail;  but  this  she 
instantly  quieted  by  marching  them  off  to  the  bed- 
room. 

While  she  applied  cold  water  vigorously,  and 
rubbed  the  nerveless  hands,  I  asked  in  much 
alarm,  seeing  how  long  and  deathlike  was  her 
swoon:  "  Is  she  really  dead?  " 

"  Bless  you,  no.  She's  one  of  them  high-strung 
women  that  takes  everything  hard.  She  fainted 
over  and  over  when  her  husband  was  ietched 
home  dead.  I  did  think  then  she'd  drop  off ;  but 
joy  don't  kill  like  trouble." 

Presently  the  poor  creature  struggled  back  to 
consciousness. 

"  I  am  afraid  I  have  frightened  you,"  she  said, 
with  a  feeble  attempt  at  apology. 

"  Pray  do  not  think  of  us.  I  may  have  been  to 
blame  in  breaking  the  news  so  suddenly." 

"No,  indeed;  the  fault  was  not  in  you;  but  I 
have  had  so  many  shocks  the  least  thing  upsets 
me.  Dr.  MacKenzie  told  me  that  my  heart  is  not 
in  a  healthy  state." 

"  I  should  say  that  was  the  matter  with  your 
whole  body.    It's  a  pretty  rickety  concern,  like 


n  • » . 


rs  WOHK. 

fainted.  That  good 
'or  any  emergency, 
vn  on  the  floor  and 
k  to  consciousness. 
[  wail;  but  this  she 
them  off  to  the  bed- 

ater  vigorously,  and 

,  I   asked  in  much 

deathlike  was  her 

I  of  them  high-strung 

hard.    She  fainted 

isband  was   ietched 

1  she'd  drop  off ;  but 

■6  struggled  back  to 

;ened  you,"  she  said, 

I  may  have  been  to 
30  suddenly." 
s  not  in  you ;  but  1 
\e  least  thing  upsets 
;  that  my  heart  is  not 

;he  matter  with  your 
rickety  concern,  like 


HOPE  JIEALIZED. 


235 


my  old  rocking-chair.    Every  day  I'm  looking  for 
it  to  go  to  pieces  under  me,"  Mrs.  Blake  remarked. 

"  I  am  not  nearly  so  bad  as  that ;  I  do  not  ex- 
pect to  fall  to  pieces  for  a  good  many  years,  now 
that  father  has  got  his  sight,  lie  will  be  able  to 
keep  us  comfortable,  like  we  used  to  be  years  ago." 

Mrs.  Blake  having  got  her  patient  back  into  the 
chair,  administered  wine  and  water  to  prevent  a 
recurrence  of  the  malady. 

A  week  or  two  after  this  Esmerelda  informed 
me  one  morning  that  there  were  great  rejoicings 
in  the  Mill  Road. 

"  I  think  they  would  like  to  see  you  there'.  I 
heard  Mr.  Bowen  and  some  of  them  talking  about 
you  last  night,  after  meeting." 

"  Mr.  Bowen — was  he  there  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes ;  and  he  sees  as  well  as  anybody." 

"  I  will  go  to-day,"  I  said,  with  difficulty  restrain- 
ing my  delight. 

"Some  of  the  people  who  attend  Beech  Street 
Church  think  you  are  a  little  above  everybody  in 
Cavendish." 

Esmerelda  spoke  with  great  cordiality.  Now  that 
I  had  been  to  New  York,  and  the  dressmakers  there 
had  transformed  me,  outwardly,  into  a  fashionable 
woman,  I  noticed  that  her  respeci  had  considerably 
increased;  and,  furthermore,  that  some  of  her  own 
costumes  had  been  made  in  almost  exact  imitation  of 
mine.    No  higher  compliment  than  this  could  Esme- 


236 


MEUOLiyE  SELWl'M'ii  WOUK. 


relda  have  piiicl  me ;  neither  could  I  help  acknowledg- 
ing that  she  looked  very  graceful  and  lady-like  in  her 
Sunday  ganueiit,  and  often  I  fell  to  speculating  how 
she  would  have  appeared  if  half  her  life  had  been 
spent  at  a  first-class  boarding-school.  A  painful 
sensation,  probably  akin  to  jealousy,  suggested  that 
probably  she  would  have  satisfied  my  guardian's 
fastidious  tivstes  better  than  I  could  ever  do. 

But  I  could  never  treat  her  in  the  same  cordial 
way  that  I  treated  Mrs.  Blake  and  the  Larkums, 
and  several  others  of  1  ler  class.  These  instinctively 
made  me  feel  that,  no  matter  liow  friendly  I  might 
be,  there  was  no  danger  of  their  trying  to  assert  an 
equality,  which  I  suppose  has  existed  among  the 
members  of  the  human  family  since  shortly  after 
the  expulsion  from  Eden.  With  Esmerelda  the 
case  was  different. 

That  day  I  betook  myself  to  the  Mill  Road  with 
a  good  deal  of  expectancy.  I  was  anxious  to  see 
the  look  of  recognition  hi  those  once  sightless,  dis- 
figured eyes,  and  to  hear  how  the  long-concealed 
delights  of  a  visible  world  once  more  appeared.  As 
I  was  walking  rapidly  along  the  street,  I  saw,  ap- 
proaching me  on  the  Mill  Road,  one  whom  I  had 
never  noticed  there  before.  He  walked  with  a 
quick,  energetic  step,  as  if  existence  wasaraptmr; 
and  yet  I  saw,  beneath  the  soft  felt  hat,  gray  bans, 
that  betokened  him  a  man  past  the  prime  of  life. 
Strange  to  say,  I  did  not  recognize  the  pedestrian, 


■  **fe!(ii^?L '  i' 


'«   WOliK. 

(1 1  help  ucknowlcdg- 
1  and  lady-like  in  her 
il  to  speculating  how 
df  her  life  had  been 
[-school.     A  painful 
lousy,  suggested  that 
isfied  my  guardian's 
could  ever  do. 
r  in  the  same  cordial 
e  and  the  Larkums, 
These  instinctively 
liow  friendly  I  might 
;ir  trying  to  assert  an 
.3  existed  among  the 
ly  since  shortly  after 
With  Esmerelda  the 

;o  the  Mill  Road  with 
I  was  anxious  to  see 
)8e  once  sightless,  dis- 
w  the  long-concealed 
3e  more  appeared.  As 
the  street,  I  saw,  ap- 
jad,  one  whom  I  had 
He  walked  with  a 
:istence  was  a  rapture; 
3ft  felt  hat,  gray  hairs, 
ast  the  prime  of  life, 
lognize  the  pedestrian, 


HOPE  BEALIZED. 


237 


and  was  surprised  to  see  him  pause,  and  hold  out 
his  hand  uncertainly,  as  if  he  wore  hardly  sure  of 

my  identity. 

"  I  think  this  is  Miss  Selwyn."  Swiftly  the  as- 
surance came  to  me  that  this  was  Mr.  Bowen. 

"  Is  it  possible  you  should  first  recognize  me?  I 
did  not  for  an  instant  think  it  was  you." 

"  I  had  the  conviction  all  along  that  I  should  know 
you,  no  matter  where  our  first  meeting  might  take 

place."  •     V    1    V 

"  Persons  are  generally  disappointed  in  the  looks 
of  their  friends  after  sight  has  been  restored.     You 
must  lie  an  exception  to  the  general  rule,  or  else 
your  perceptions  are  keener  Uian  the  average  suf- 
ferers from  loss  of  sight."     I  looked  closely  into 
the  eyes  of  ray  companion,  and  saw  that  they  were 
unusually  fine  and  expressive.     He  tui-ned  with 
me,  saying,  ^rith  a  beautiful  deference  : 
"  May  I  walk  back  with  you  ?  " 
"  I  shall  be  disappointed  if  yon  do  not  give  me  a 
little  of  your  time.     I  only  heard  to-<lay  that  you 
were  at  home,  and  have  come  on  purpose  to  see 
you.     My  curiosity  has  been  extreme  to  knovrhow 
the  world  looks  after  your  long  night." 

"Nearly  everything  is  changed,  but  mostly  man 
and  his  works.  When  the  bandages  were  finally  re- 
moved, and  i\ll  the  other  necessary  restrictions,  I 
asked  to  have  my  first  glimpse  of  the  outer  world 
into  the  starry  night.     I  do  not  think  our  language 


238 


MEDOLINE  SELWTN'S  WORK. 


has  a  well  deep  enough  to  express  what  I  felt  in 
that  first  glimpse.  But  the  human  faces  are  sadly 
changed.  Poverty  and  care,  I  find,  are  not  beauti- 
fiers.  My  own  daughter  looks  a  stranger;  only 
wlien  I  hear  her  speak.  My  own  face  surprised 
me  most.     It  is  changed  past  recognition." 

He  spoke  a  little  i^adly.  I  could  think  of  no  com- 
forting words.  After  we  had  walked  on  some  time 
in  silence,  he  said : 

"  I  do  not  think  the  revelations  after  death  will 
be  any  stranger  than  those  of  the  past  few  weeks. 
My  blindness  and  restoration  to  sight  have,  in  a 
measure,  anticipated  the  full  return  of  all  the  facul- 
ties that  death,  for  a  brief  season,  takes  from  us." 

"Do  you  think  any  experience  we  can  have  in 
this  world  touches  on  those  mysteries  of  the  first 
hours  of  immortal  life?  I  cannot  imagine  any 
sensation  that  will  be  common  to  the  two  exist- 
ences." 

"  There  is  certainly  one — probably  very,  very 
many.  I  cannot  believe  there  will  be  much  change 
in  the  relationship  that  exists  between  the  conse- 
crated soul  and  its  centre  of  attraction.  Deepened, 
intensified,  it  no  doubt  will  be ;  but  not  radically 
changed." 

My  thoughts  instantly  turned  to  the  words  the 
occulist  had  written.  No  wonder  a  man  living  so 
far  within  the  confines  of  the  unseen  should  be 
able  to  exercise  almost  superhuman  patience  under 


*«*.*:*- -:'.; 


'N'S  WORK. 

express  what  I  felt  in 
luman  faces  are  sadly 
I  fiiul,  are  not  beauti- 
)ks  a  stranger;  only 
/  own  face  surprised 
recognition." 
could  think  of  no  com- 
1  walked  on  some  time 

itions  after  death  will 
f  the  past  few  weeks, 
n  to  sight  have,  in  a 
return  of  all  the  facul- 
ison,  takes  from  us." 
rience  we  can  have  in 
mysteries  of  the  firet 
cannot  imagine  any 
ion  to  the  two  exist- 

-probably  very,  very 
s  will  be  much  change 
ts  between  the  conse- 
ittraction.  Deepened, 
be;  but  not  radically 

•ned  to  the  words  the 
onder  a  man  living  so 
;he  unseen  should  be 
human  patience  under 


UOPB  REALIZED. 


239 


the  most  trying  exigencies  of  life.  When  we 
reached  Llie  broken  gate  leading  into  the  house,  he 
paused  and  turned  to  me.  He  was  silent  for  a  few 
seconds,  and  then  said,  apparently  with  an  effort: 
"  I  want  to  thank  you  for  what  you  have  done  for 
me.  Last  night,  on  my  way  home  from  the  house 
of  prayer,  I  was  hunting  up  the  constellations  that 
once  I  loved  to  trace  and  call  by  name,  and,  in 
some  way,  you  were  brought  to  mind  with  all  that 
you  have  generously  done  for  me  ;  and  then,  and 
there,  I  tried  to  frame  some  words  of  gratitude  by 
which  to  express  what  I  felt.  In  Heaven  I  may 
be  able ;  for  only  there  we  shall  have  language  for 
our  utmost  oUetch  of  thought." 

"Perhaps  before  we  meet  there,  as  I  pray  God 
we  may  do,  I  may  have  more  reason  for  gratitude 
than  you.  Have  you  not  told  me  that  your  daily 
prayer  is  for  my  salvation  ?  " 

I  said  good-bye  hurriedly  without  waiting  for  a 
reply,  and  turned  my  face  homeward.  Gradually 
there  was  coming  into  my  heart  the  hope  that  ere 
long  I  might  come  into  the  same  wealthy  place 
where  he  walked  with  such  serenity  .even  amid 
life's  sore  trials. 


w 


1 


CHAPTER  XVII. 


CELBISTMAS-TIDE. 

V 

|HR1STMAS  was  rapidly  approaching,  and 
the  pleasant  English  custom  of  celebrating 
it  with  good  cheer,  and  in  a  festive  way, 
Mrs.  Flaxman  told  me,  was  a  fixed  rule  at  Oaklands. 
The  dinner  i^rovided  for  the  master's  taljle  was  suf- 
ficient in  quarttity  Tor  eveiy  member  ofthe  house- 
hold to  share,  down  to  the  ruddy-haired  Samuel.  In 
addition  to  this,  Mr.  WinthrOp  remembered  each 
one  of  his  domestics  when  distributing  his  Cliristmas 
gifts.  Mrs.  Flaxman  confided  to  me  that  Samuel 
was  consumed  with  a  desire  to  have  his  f^ift  in  tlie 
shape  of  a  watch.  I  proceeded  forthwith  to  gratify, 
if  possible,  this  humble  aiubition,  and  first  went  to 
the  different  jewelers'  establishments  in  Cavendish 
to  see  how  much  one  would  cost.  On  careful  ex- 
amination I  was  surprised  to  find  a  fine  large  watch 
could  be  got  so  reasonably.  At  the  time  I  was  as 
ignorant  as  Samuel  liimself  of  the  interior  mechau- 


-^«ai 


VII. 


IDE. 


ily  approaching,  and 
justoni  of  celebrating 
md  in  a  festive  way, 
xed  rule  at  Oaklands. 
laster's  taljle  was  suf- 
nember  of  the  house- 
iy-fealred  Samuel.  In 
■Op  remembered  each 
'ibuting  hisCliristraas 
:d  to  me  that  Samuel 
,0  have  his  i^ift  in  the 
lI  forthwith  to  gratify, 
ion,  and  first  went  to 
ihments  in  Cavendish 
;ost.  On  careful  ex- 
ind  a  fine  large  watch 
At  the  time  I  was  as 
f  the  interior  mechan- 


CnniSTMA  8-TIDE. 


241 


jiiH. 


ism  of  these  clever  contrivances  to  tell  the  hours. 
The  day  before  Christmas  I  presented  myself  as 
was  always  tlie  case,  with  some  trepidation,  before 
my  guardian,  following  him  into  the  library  shortly 
after  breakfast,  even  though  I  knew  it  was  his 
busieat  hour. 

"  I  wish  to  consult  with  you  about  a  couple  of 
my  Christmas  gifts,"  I  said  directly,  "if  you  have 
leisure  to  give  me  a  few  moments." 

"  I  am  never  too  busy  to  hear  anytliing  you  may 
wish  to  say,  especially  anytliing  in  connection  with 
your  benevolent  projects,"  he  said,  quite  genially. 

"Are  you  going  to  buy  the  stable  boy  a 
watch?" 

"  Certiualy  not  anything  so  unnec«(B«iy  fot  that 
woodeu4iaided  jovikL.  I  doal4  i|  1m  could  mako 
out  the  hour  if  he  f  osseesed  one." 

"  Oh,  yes  he  could.  Boys  are  not  nearly  so 
stupid  as  you  might  imagine,"  I  responded  assur- 
ingly.  "  He  is  very  anxious  for  one.  I  have 
been  examining  the  jeweller's  stock  and  can  get  a 
very  nice-looking  watch  for  five  dollars.  1  was 
surprised,  and  think  they  are  mai'vels  of  cheap- 
ness." 

"  You  go  entirely  by  looks,  I  see,  in  the  matter ; 
but  that  is  all  that  bright-hued  youth  will  require. 
Yes,  by  all  means  get  the  watcli.  Thereby  you 
will  add  considerably  to  the  pile  of  human  happi- 
ness, for  a  biiort  time,  at  all  events." 

16 


d42 


MJBDOLJNE  SELWrira  WORK. 


..r:; 


"  Would  five  doUai-s  be  too  high  to  pay  for  one  ?  " 
I  asked  doubtfully. 

"  If  you  can  secure  one  at  a  lower  price  do  so 
]>y  all  means,"  he  said  witli  apparent  sincerity. 

"  There  were  some  for  two  and  a  half  dollars ; 
but  they  looked  rather  large  for  a  boy  of  his  size." 
"  The  less  boy  the  more  watch,  I  should  say  ■ 
but  be  sure  and  get  a  large  chain.  If  the  watch 
gets  to  be  trying  on  his  nerves,  he  ctn  use  the  chain 
to  put  an  end  to  lils  troubles." 

*'  If  he  needed  them,  there  are  plenty  of  straps 
and  rope  ends  about  the  stable  ;  but  Samuel  enjoys 
life  too  keenly  to  be  easily  disconcerted  at  n  few 
trials.  I  was  looking  at  the  chains  too.  I  did  not 
know  before  that  jewelry  was  so  low  priced." 

♦' Yes?  "  he  responded,  more  as  a  question  than 
affirmation. 

"I  saw  elegant  watch  chains  at  one  of  the 
stores  for  fifty  cents.  I  told  the  clerk  who  I 
wanted  them  for,  and  he  very  kiidly  interested 
himself,  and  showed  me  some  that  he  called  'dead 
bargains.' " 

"  Go  then,  by  all  means,  and  secure  a  bargain  for 
the  boy.     I  will  advance  the  money." 

"  Oh,  thank  you,  I  prefer  making  the  gift  mysolf. . 
I  want  also  to  get  something  for  Thomas,  and  I 
cannot  think  of  anything  but  a  gun  or  a  book.  Do 
you  know  if  he  likes  to  shoot  things?  " 

"  If  Thomas  developed  a  taste  for  fire-arais  he 


'S  WORK. 

igh  to  pay  for  one?" 

a  lower  price  do  so 
parent  sincerity, 
and  a  half  dollars ; 
)r  a  boy  of  his  size." 
atch,  I  should  say  i 
hain.  If  the  watch 
he  ci^n  use  the  chain 

ire  plenty  of  straps 
;  but  Samuel  enjoys 
isconcerted  at  n  few 
bains  too.  I  did  not 
so  low  piiced." 
re  as  a  question  than 

lains  at  one  of  the 

Id  the  clerk  who  I 

ry  kiidly  interested 

that  he  called  'dead 

I  secure  a  bargain  for 
money." 

laking  the  gift  mysolf.  • 

y  for  Thomas,  and  I 

a  gun  or  a  book.  Do 

things?" 

taste  for  fire-anns  he 


CHRISTMAS-TIDE 


243 


might  take  to  shooting  pj  omiscuously,  and  life  at 
Oaklands  would  no  longer  be  so  safe  as  at  present. 
I  should  certainly  advise  a  book." 

"  But  some  of  them  say  he  cannot  read." 

"  It  is  high  time,  then,  for  him  to  learn.  Thomas 
is  a  marvel  of  thiift,  and  he  won'  l>e  satisfied  to 
have  the  book  bring  in  no  return.  A  school  book 
would  be  a  judicious  selection." 

"  I  saw  a  book  down  town  about  horses  and  their 
diseases  and  treatment.  Cook  says, '  Thomas  dearly 
loves  to  fix  up  medicines  for  his  horses.' " 

"  Verv  well.  Now  that  matter  is  settled,  have 
you  any  further  inquiries  to  make  about  Christmas 
presents  ?  " 

"  Not  any  more,  thank  you." 

"  Then  I  will  tell  you  a  bit  of  news.  I  expect 
Mr.  Bovyer  here  this  evening.  It  is  a  great  favor 
for  him  to  confer  on  us  at  this  season — coming  to 
brighten  our  Christmas." 

"  I  fancied  we  liad  the  prospect  of  a  very  joyous 
Christmas  without  help  from  abroad.  To  look  at  the 
pantry  one  might  imagine  we  were  going  to  entertain 
half  of  Cavendish  to-morrow." 

"  I  noticed  a  wistful  look  on  your  face  when  you 
came  in  that  the  purchase  of  a  gun  and  watch 
could  not  wholly  account  for.  Tell  me,  what  is  it?  " 

"Mr.  Winthrop,  can  you  really  read  my 
thoughts  ?  "  I  excliiimed,  in  genuine  alarm. 

"  Suppose   I  try.     You  would  like  to  have  a 


244 


MEBOLINE  SELWrya  WORK. 


spread  for  your  Mill  Road  pensioners ;  possibly  at 
the  Blakes  or  among  some  of  them,  and  thereby 
utilize  our  overplus  of  provisions.  Have  I  read 
aright  ?  "  My  face  flushed  hotly,  for  this  certainly 
had  been  in  my  mind  for  days  -,  but  I  had  not 
courage  to  make  the  request. 

"  You  do  not  answer  my  question,"  he  said,  after 
awhile,  seeing  me  stand  silent. 

"  One  cannot  be  punished  for  their  thoughts, 
Mr.  Winthrop." 

"  Then  this  was  your  thought  ?  "  he  questioned. 
"  Surely  you  must  be  angry  with  me  for  wishing 
to  do  it.     I  did  not  mention  it  to  Mrs.  Flaxman, 
or  any  one." 

"  Why,  not,  indeed.  If  cook  is  willing  to  share 
her  good  things  with  the  Mill  Road  people,  and 
Mrs.  Flaxman  will  accompany  you  to  preserve  the 
proprieties,  I  do  not  see  anything  to  hinder.  I 
will  provide  all  the  apples  and  confectionery  your 
hungry  crowd  can  consume  for  dessert." 

I  stood  iu  amazement,  scarce  knowing  hovr  to 
express  my  gratitude.  A  sudden  desire  seized  me 
to  put  my  arms  around  his  neck  and  give  him  a 
genuine  filial  caress. 

"  I  wish  you  were  my  father,  Mr.  Winthrop,"  I 
exclaimed,  impulsively.  , 

"Why  so?" 

"I  might  be  able  then  to  thank  you  in  some 
comfortable  fashion." 


1_ 


3  WORK. 

ioners ;  possibly  at 
them,  and  thereby 
ins.  Have  I  read 
yr,  for  this  certainly 
s  i  but  I  had  not 

tion,"  he  said,  after 

'or  their  thoughts, 

t  ?  "  he  questioned, 
nth  me  for  wishing 
t  to  Mrs.  Flaxman, 

:  is  willing  to  share 
Road  people,  and 
you  to  preserve  the 
liing  to  hinder.  I 
confectionery  your 
•  dessert." 

36  knowing  how  to 
leu  desire  seized  me 
ck  and  give  him  a 

r,  Mr.  Winthrop,"  I 

t 

thank  you  in  some 


CIIRTSTMAS-TIDE. 


245 


"  I  understand  what  you  mean,  little  one.  I  told 
you  once  that  I  was  not  anxious  to  have  you  re- 
gard me  in  a  filial  way."  Then  turning  the  sub- 
ject abruptly  he  said : 

"  You  can  make  all  your  arrangements  regard- 
less of  any  reasonable  expense.  One  may  permit 
themselves  to  be  a  trifle  generous  and  childish  once 
a  year.  If  you  see  any  more  remarkable  bargains, 
you  can  secure  them  and  have  a  Christmas  tree. 
Have  the  goods  charged  to  me." 

I  did  not  attempt  a  reply.  My  heart  just  then 
was  too  near  bubbling  over  to  permit  speech  to  be 
safe  or  convenient.  I  slipped  quietly  from  the 
room.  I  had  a  comfortable  feelinj  that  my  guard- 
ian could  actually  read  my  thoughts,  and  knew 
how  I  regarded  his  act  and  himself. 

I  went  directly  to  Mrs.  Flaxman.  She  entered 
cordially  into  my  plans,  but  looked  a  good  deal 
surprised  when  I  told  her  it  was  Mr.  Winthrop's 
suggestion. 

"I  believe,  dear,  in  your  unselfish,  impulsive 
way,  you  have  taken  the  very  wisest  possible 
course  with  him.     I  never  hoped  to  see  tliis  day." 

"  I  believe  it  amuses  him.  1  have  the  impres- 
sion that  he  is  working  me  up  into  a  book,  only 
making  me  out  more  ridiculous  than  he  ought. 
You  cannot  imagine  how  I  long,  and  yet  dread  to 
see  the  book." 


246 


MEDOLINE  SELWYN'S  WORK. 


t 


"  But  he  does  not  write  stories ;  so  you  need  not 
be  troubled  about  that." 

"He  can  write  them  if  he  chooses,  and  very 
clever  Oiies  too,  I  am  certain.  He  may  be  encour- 
aging me  to  go  on  just  to  find  out  how  it  will  all 
end,  but  I  am  only  one  in  a  universe  full  of  souls ; 
and  it  others,  many  others,  get  benefited,  there  will 
be  far  greater  gain  than  loss." 

"  That  is  the  true,  brave  spirit  to  have,  and  the 
only  kind  that  will  bring  genuine  happiness." 

"  Now  to  return  to  our  festival.  Do  you  think 
cook  will  be  willing  to  share  her  abundance  with 
M?" 

"  Go  and  ask  her,  I  do  not  think  she  will  disap- 
point you." 

I  went  directly  to  the  large,  cheery  kitchen,  a 
favorite  haunt  of  mine  of  late.  It  was  always  so 
clean  and  homely,  and  cook  was  usually  in  a  gra- 
cious mood  and  permitted  me  to  assist  in  any  of 
her  culinary  undertakings  when  I  was  so  minded. 

Among  my  other  enterprises  I  had  an  ambition 
to  become  a  practical  housekeeper  in  case  I  might 
some  day  be  married  to  a  poor  man,  and  have  a 
family  to  bake  and  brew  for  with  my  own  hands. 

When  1  entered  the  kitchen  I  found  her  more 
than  usually  busy,  with  both  Reynolds  and  Esme- 
relda  pressed  into  the  service. 

"Shall  we  ever  get  all  your  dainties  eaten? 
Wont  they  spoil  on  your  hands  ?  " 


■'^^"''ilill 


1111 


X 


cniilSTMAS-TIDE. 


247 


'S  WORK. 

}s ;  80  you  need  not 

I  chooses,  and  very 
He  may  be  encour- 
out  how  it  will  all 
iverse  full  of  souls ; 
benefited,  there  will 

rit  to  have,  and  the 
ine  happiness." 
val.    Do  you  think 
her  abundance  with 

;hink  she  will  disap- 

e,  cheery  kitchen,  a 
I.  It  was  always  so 
'as  usually  in  a  gra- 
to  assist  in  any  of 
jn  I  was  so  minded. 
3 1  had  an  ambition 
3per  in  case  I  might 
or  man,  and  have  a 
th  my  own  hands. 
1  I  found  her  more 
teynolds  and  Esme- 

)ur  dainties  eaten? 

8?" 


"  I  dare  say  some  of  them  will ;  but  Christmas 
time  we  expect  a  little  to  go  to  waste." 
"  Don't  you  give  away  some  ?  "  I  asked. 
»  All  that's  asked  for." 
"  I  am  so  glad  to  hear  it.    I  want  some  ever  so 

much."  ,  , 

"What's  up  now?"  she  asked,  scarcely  with  her 

accustomed  deference. 

"  I  want  so  much  to  have  a  little  treat  for  my 
friends,  if  you  will  only  help.    It  all  depends  on 

^°"*Why  certainly  ;  it's  my  place  to  cook  for  all  the 
parties  you  choose  to  make.  It's  not  ray  place  to 
dictate  how  the  victuals  is  to  be  used." 

«  You  do  not  understand  me.  It  is  not  here  that 
I  wish  to  entertain  ray  friends.  Mr.  Winthi-op  has 
eiven  his  permission,  on  condition  you  are  willing. 
She  was  greatly  mollified  at  this  and  responded 
heartUy.  "  Of  course  I'm  willing ;  and,  bless  me, 
there's  plenty  to  give  a  good  share  to  them  that 
needs  it;  and  I  guess  it's  them  you're  wanting  to 

give  it  to."  ._  . 

"  Thank  you  very,  very  much.  Now  you  must 
come  to  my  Christmas  trer,  and  see  l^ow  mudi 
pleasure  you  have  been  able  to  confer.  Without 
your  consent  nothing  would  have  been  done. 

"  Yes,  I'll  come  and  help  you  too,  and  you  11  need 
me,"  she  said,  with  much  good  humor.  I  did  not 
wait  long  in  the  kitchen,  so  much  now  must  Do 


1 


248 


MEDOLINE  SELWYN'8  WORK. 


done.  Alas,  Christmas  day  was  so  near  I  could 
not  celebrate  my  festival  on  that  day ;  but  another 
day  might  find  us  just  as  liappy  ;  and  after  all  it 
would  be  "  curdling  "  too  much  joy  into  one  of  the 
shortest  of  our  days. 

I  put  on  my  wraps  and  went  immediately  to 
confer  with  Mrs.  Blake.  I  found  her,  like  every 
one  else,  in  the  midst  of  busy  preparsu.ns  for 
Christmas. 

"  Dan'el  got  me  a  twelve-pound  turkey  and  lots 
of  oUier  tilings ;  and  lie  wants  a  regular  old-fash- 
ioned Christmas,  with  all  the  Larkunis  here ;  and 
thou  I  have  one  or  two  little  folks  I'm  going  to 
have  in  to  please  myself.  Poor  little  creatures, 
with  a  drunken  father  and  no  mother  worth  speak- 
ing about." 

"  Have  you  very  much  trade  now  ?  " 

"  Well,  consid'able ;  but  if  you're  wanting  me 
for  anything  I  can  set  up  later  to-night." 

"  Oh,  no,  indeed.  I  just  wanted  to  consult  you 
about  something,  and  I  will  help  you  stone  these 
raisins  while  I  sit  with  you." 

"  Dear  heart,  you  needn't  do  that ;  I'll  get  the 
pudding  made  in  plenty  of  time,  but  what  kindness 
have  3'ou  in  your  plans  now  ?  " 

"  A  Christmas  tree.  T  want  you  to  tell  me  what 
to  do,,  and  wlierc  to  have  it." 

"  ^Vhy,  the  Temperance  Hall,  of  cor.  -se,  just  past 
the  milis.    I  guess  you've  never  soeu  it." 


hai 
mc 

thi 
ma 

Cli 
tlu 

am 

W 

he 
go 
an^ 

a£ 
on 

th( 

ms 
thi 
bil 
an 
Tl 
pu 
bo 


near  I  could 
;  but  another 
md  after  all  it 
nto  one  of  the 

iimedlately  to 
er,  like  every 
jpanucus  for 

ukey  and  lots 
ular  old-fash- 
ms  here ;  and 

I'm  going  to 
tie  creatures, 

worth  speak- 


!  wanting  me 

ht." 

0  consult  you 

u  stone  these 

i;  I'll  get  the 
I'hat  kindness 

)  tell  me  what 

ivse,  just  past 
it." 


7 


■i''W 


CURIHTMA  H-TIDE. 


249 


"  That  will  be  excellent.  I  did  not  know  you 
had  one  here.  Now,  when  shall  we  liave  it?  To- 
morrow will  be  too  soon,  I  am  afraid." 

*'  Yes,  and  it  seems  a  pity  to  have  so  many  good 
things  all  to  onct.  Most  everybody  has  a  Christ- 
mas of  some  sort.     How  would  Friday  do." 

"Very  nicely.  That  will  be  two  days  after 
Christmas.  Little  folks  will  have  recovered  from 
the  effects  of  their  feasting  by  that  time." 

"  Well,  Dan'el  '11  get  a  tree  and  fix  up  the  Hall ; 
and  tell,  then,  who  you'll  want  to  invite." 

"All  the  children  on  the  Mill  Road  may  come. 
We  will  have  something  for  each  of  them." 

"I'm  very  glad;  for  there's  a  few  children  around 
here  that  hardly  knows  what  it  is  to  have  anything 
good  to  eat;  and  it'll  be  something  for  'em  to  think 
and  talk  about.  They'll  not  forget  it,  or  you,  for 
a  good  many  years,  I  can  tell  you.  If  rich  folks 
only  knew  how  much  good  they  might  do,  I  think 
they'd  not  be  so  neglectful." 

I  soon  left  Mrs.  Blake  to  continue  her  Christ- 
mas preparations  alone,  feeling  much  relieved 
that  Daniel  was  going  to  assume  the  responsi- 
bility of  securing  the  Hall,  providing  the  tree, 
and  notifying  my  guests.  I  got  my  presents  for 
Thomas  and  Samuel,  and  then  set  about  the 
purchase  of  gifts  for  the  Christmas  tree.  Picture- 
books,  jack-knives,  dolls,  and  other  toys  comprised 
my  selection.    These,  I  concluded,  would  give  the 


I 


;   '  '1 


I   ;  ,1 

i    i' 


tso 


MEDOLINE  SELWYN'S  WORK. 


children  more  pleasure  than  the  more  necessary 
articles  which  an  older  and  wiser  person  would 
naturally  have  selected.     I  had  got  so  absorbed  in 
my  work  that  I  quite  forgot  our  expected  guest 
until  I  went  into  the  dining-room,  unfortunately  a 
little  late,  and   found  them  already  engaged  at 
dinner,   and   Mr.  Bovyer  with   them.     Mr.  Win- 
throp  exi.lained  my  tardiness  in  such  a  way  that 
T  was  left  a  little  cross  and  uncomfortable,  and 
took  my  dinner  something  after  the  fivshion  of  a 
naughty  child  suffering  from  reproof.     Before  the 
evening  was  over,  however,  I  had  forgotten  my 
passing  dissatisfaction  ;  for  Mr.  Bovyer  was  in  one 
of  his  inspired  moods  when  he  sat  at  the  piano. 

I  noticed  afterward  that  Mrs.  Fhixman's  eyes 
were  very  red ;  but  while  he  was  playing  my  atten- 
tion was  taken  up  in  part  with  the  music,  and 
partly  in  furtively  watching  Mr.  Winthrop.  He 
seemed  ill  at  ease,  and  restless;  while  Mr.  Bovyer's 
utmost  efforts  were  powerless  to  move  him  to 
tears.  When  we  had  all  drawn  cosily  around  the 
fire,  after  the  music  was  ended,  I  remarked  with 
some  regret,  "  I  do  not  think  Mr.  Winthrop  has  any 
tears  to  shed.    His  eyes  were  as  dry  as  a  bone." 

"  The  night  is  too  fine  for  such  an  effect.  Wait 
until  we  have  a  storm,"  he  said,  with  a  smile. 

"  Your  nerves  are  too  strong  for  a  storm  to  affect 
them.  Something  very  different  will  be  required. 
I  am  afraid  we  must  give  you  up." 


thii 
unt 
Mr 

pat 

goi 

i 

me 
ing 
ths 

de( 

yo 

kii 
pu 

trs 
m< 


'OJiK. 

more  necessary 
r  person  would 
t  so  absorbed  in 
expected  guest 
unfortunately  a 
;vdy  engaged  at 
lem.  Mr.  Win- 
such  a  way  that 
omfortable,  and 
;he  fivshion  of  a 
oof.  Before  tho 
,d  forgotten  my 
)vyer  was  in  one 

at  tlie  piano. 

Fhixman's  eyes 
laying  my  atten- 

Ihe  music,  and 

Winthrop.  He 
lile  Mr.  Bovyer's 
to  move  him  to 
30sily  around  the 
I  remarked  with 
Vinthrop  has  any 
iry  as  a  bone." 

an  effect.    Wait 
vith  a  smile. 
r  a  storm  to  affect 

will  be  required. 


CIIK  IS  TMA  S-  TIDE. 


251 


"  Life  is  too  smooth  with  him  for  music  or  any- 
thing ajsthetic  to  ruHle  tlio  deeper  springs.  Wait 
until  he  has  storms  and  whirlwinds  to  withstand." 
Mr.  Bovyer  said,  calmly. 

"  Oh  I  hope  he  will  never  have  them,  he  has  not 
patience  like— some,"  I  added,  after  a  pause.  I  was 
going  to  say  Mr.  Bowei 

*'  You  must  know  that  my  ward  has  taken  my 
measure  very  correctly.  She  is  better  than  a  look- 
iiig-gliiss.  Indeed  I  was  not  aware  until  lately 
that  I  had  bo  many  shortcomings." 

"  Medicine  for  a  mind  diseased,  administered  by 
a  gentle  hand,  cannot  be  hard  to  take." 

"The  softest  hand  can  sometimes  wound  tho 
deepest." 

» Mr.  Winthrop,  surely  I  have  never  wounded 
you !  I  have  not  the  power.  To  think  so  would 
give  me  pain ;  for,  in  your  way,  you  have  been 
kind  to  me— more  so  than  I  deserve,"  I  said,  im- 
pulsively. 

"Wo  are  always  trembling  in  the  verge  of 
tragedy,"  he  said  lightly,  and  then  rang  for  refresh- 
ments ;  and  after  that  we  retired. 


T 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

THE  CHRISTMAS  TREE. 

PIRISTMAS  morninfj  dawned  bright  and 
clear,  the  one  dniwhack  the  hvck  of  snow. 
.=___  Thomas  had  everything  in  readiness,  and 
every  one  in  the  house  was  h)oking  forward  to  a 
sleigli- ride.   However,  all  the  other  Christmas  cus- 
tom's were  observed.    Before  breakfast. was  the  gen- 
eral distribution  of  gifts.    We  were  all  assembled  at 
the  usual  breakfast  hour  in  the  dining-room,  when 
Mrs.  Flaxman  rang  the  bell  for  the  servants  to  come 
in.   Reynolds  was  the  first  to  appear.    She  took  her 
seat  nearest  to  Mr.  Winthrop  ;  then  Mrs.  Jones,  the 
cook,  and  Tliomas,  Esmerelda,  and  Samuel  came  in. 
Reynolds  got  her  present  first— a  nice  black  silk 
dress.     I  saw  by  the  pleased  flush  in  her  face  that 
she  was  consideraV)ly  astonished.   The  others,  each 
a   five-dollar   bill;   and    for   Samuel,  a  jack-knife 
that  would  be  the  envy  of  all  his  comrades.     Mrs. 
Flaxman  had  something  for  each  one  of  them,  and 


I. 


BE. 


T 


in. 


vnecl  bright  and 
.he  lack  of  snow, 
in  reaiUness,  and 
ng  forward  to  a 
)r  Clnistmas  cus- 
ifast.was  the  gen- 
3  all  assembled  at 
ining-room,  when 

servants  to  come 
■ar.  She  took  her 
n  Mrs.  Jones,  the 
[  Saninol  came  in. 
-a  nice  black  silk 
h  in  her  face  that 

The  others,  each 
uiel,  a  jack-knife 

comrades.     Mrs. 

one  of  them,  and 


THE  CnniftTMAS  TBEE. 


253 


then  I  followed.     When    I   reached   Samncl   and 
handed  him  the  watcli  from  which  was  sn,si)en(led 
ii  glittering  chain,  his  politeness  quite  forsook  liim. 
"  Golly,  but  that's  a  stunner,"  he  ejaculated  invol- 
untarily.    Suddenly  remembering  liimself  he  said, 
very  humbly  :  "  Thank  you,  ma'am."     Thomas  re- 
garded his  book  with  some  apijrehension;  but  turn- 
ing over  the  leaves,  the  pictures  of  so  many  hand- 
some horses  reconciled  him.     After  they  liad  filed 
out  I  took  my  opportunity  to  deliver  the  gifts  I 
had  prepared  with  much  care  for  Mr.  Winthrop  and 
Mrs.  Flaxman ;  for  the  latter  an  idealized  portrait 
of  Hubert,  in   a  heavy  gilt  frame,  which  I  had 
painted  from  a  photograph  ;  and  for  Mr.  Winthrop 
a  much  better  jncture  of  Oaklands  than  the  one  he 
already  possessed. 

I  turned  to  Mr.  Bovyer  uncertainly,  and,  after  a 
moment  hesitation,  said  :  "I  have  a  bit  of  my  work 
here  for  you;  but  it  is  so  little  worth.  I  am 
ashamed  to  offer  it."  I  handed  him  the  folded 
leaves,  tied  with  ribbons,  of  Longfellow's  "  Reapers 
and  the  Angels,"  which  I  had  spent  some  time  in 
trying  to  illustrate,  with  the  hope  one  day  of  turn- 
ing it  into  cash.  He  thanked  me,  I  thought,  with 
unnecessary  fervor,  considering  the  smallness  of 
the  gift,  and  stood  examining  my  poor  attempt  to 
express  the  poet's  meaning  by  brush  and  pencil. 

"  I  say,  Winthrop,  this  is  really  clever  for  one  so 
young." 


w- 


254 


MEDOLINE  SELWTN'B  WORK- 


Mr.  Winthrop  took  the  book  and  turned  over 
the  leaves. 

"  You  have  reason  to  be  proud,  Medoline,  that 
one  of  our  severest  art  critics  has  pronounced 
favorably  on  your  work.  Perhaps  the  being  re- 
membered on  Christmas  morning  has  made  him 
blind  to  its  faults." 

"  I  find  Mr.  Winthrop  a  very  healthy  corrective 
against  any  flattering  remarks  of  my  other  friends, 
I  accept  him  as  a  sort  of  mental  tonic,"  I  said,  turn-? 
ing  to  Mr.  Bovyer. 

"Our  norning's  work  is  not  yet  completed," 
Mr.  Winthrop  said.  "  Please  excuse  me  a  moment," 
He  went  into  the  library,  and  returning  shortly,  he 
went  first  to  Mrs.  Flaxman  and  gave  her  a  good 
sized  parcel.  I  was  waiting  so  eagerly  to  see  her 
open  it  that  I  scarce  thought  if  I,  too,  should  be  re- 
membered 5  but  after  standing  for  a  few  seconds  by 
the  fire  he  came  to  my  side  and  gave  me  a  tiny  box 
done  up  carelessly  in  a  bit  of  paper.  I  opened  it, 
when  the  moat  beautiful  diamond  ring  I  ever  saw 
glittered  a  moment  after  on  my  finger. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Winthrop,  is  this  really  and  truly 
mine?" 

"  Really  and  truly,  yes." 

In  my  surprise  and  delight  I  lifted  the  ring  to 
my  lips  and  kissed  it. 

"That  is  the  prettiest  compliment  paid  to  a  gift 
I  ever  witnessed,"  Mr.  Bovyer  said,  with  p  smile. 


1 


<'\:. 


WORK. 

md  turned  over 

I,  Medoline,  that 
has  pronounced 
ps  the  being  re- 
made him 


J  has 


lealthy  corrective 
my  other  friends, 
)nic,"  I  said,  turur 

yet  completed," 
ise  me  a  moment," 
arning  shortly,  he 
1  gave  her  a  good 
jagerly  to  see  her 
,  too,  should  be  re- 
r  a  few  seconds  by 
;ave  me  a  tiny  box 
ser.  I  opened  it, 
id  ring  I  ever  saw 
finger, 
really  and  truly 


lifted  the  ring  to 

lent  paid  to  a  gift 
id,  with  p  smile. 


THE  CHRISTMAS  TREE. 


3B5 


"  Medoline  has  her  own  way  of  doing  things.  I 
find  her  refreshingly  original." 

*'  That  is  almost  better  than  the  ring,"  I  mur- 
mured gratefully,  looking  up  into  Ids  face. 

"Shall  we  have  breakfast  served  now?"  He 
turned  abruptly  round  and  touched  the  bell.  I  be- 
thought me  of  Mrs.  Flaxraan  and  looked  just  in 
time  to  see  her  slipping  off  an  elegant  sealskin 
dolman,  while  her  eyes  looked  very  dewy  and  ten- 
der. 

"  Mr.  Winthrop,  you  are  making  this  Christmas- 
tide  positively  regal  with  your  gifts.  So  many  of 
us  that  you  have  gladdened— Mill  Road  i'llks  and 
all,"  I  said,  not  able  wholly  to  restra'.u  "^^y  affec- 
tionate impulses  as  I  laid  my  hand  lightly  on  his— 
the  first  time  I  had  ever  so  touched  him. 

He  folded  his  other  hand  over  mine  for  an  in- 
stant, and  then  we  sat  down  to  the  breakfast  which 
had  just  been  brought  in. 

Mr.  Winthrop  and  Mr.  Bovyer  spent  the  greater 
part  of  the  day  together  alone.  After  breakfast 
they  took  a  long  horseback  ride  across  country, 
only  reaching  home  in  time  for  luncheon,  and  then 
Mr.  Winthrop  had  some  choice  additions  to  his 
library  to  exhibit,  that  kept  them  employed  until 
dinner.  Mrs.  Flaxman  smiled  at  the  way  Mr. 
Bovyer's  time  was  engrossed  by  my  guardian,  but 
I  do  not  think  either  of  us  regretted  it;  for  we  had 
so  many  happy  fancies  of  our  own  to  dwell  upon 


,1  ' 


i  J 


tli 

■  ii 


i! 


256 


MEDOLINE  SELWTN'S  WOUK. 


that  the  brief  December  day  seemed  all  too  short. 
Just  before  dinner  I  went  to  the  kitchen  to  see  how 
Samuel  was  getting  on  with  his  timepiece,  but 
found  that  he  had  been  away  all  day. 

" That  watch  of  his  his  baen  more  talked  about 
in  Cooper's  Lane,  where  Iiis  folks  live,  than  any- 
thing else,  I'll  warrant,  this  day,"  Thomas  assured 
me.  "  He'll  be  back  soon.  The  smell  of  dinner 
always  fetches  him  home." 

We  had  scarce  done  speaking  when  I  heard  his 
step  at  the  door,  and  presently  he  came  in.  His 
watch-chain  was  arranged  in  most  conspicuous 
fashion  across  his  waistcoat,  and  caught  the  light 
very  cheerfully  as  he  stcid  near  the  lamp. 

"  What's  the  time  ? "  Thomas  asked  soberly  ; 
but  Samuel  was  too  smart  to  be  so  easily  trapped. 
"  There's  the  clock  right  afore  your  eyes." 
"  The  time  maybe'd  be  better  from  a  bran  new 
watch." 

I  did  not  linger  to  hear  more  of  their  badinage, 
but  the  look  of  satisfaction  on  Samuel's  face  found 
a  reflection  in  my  own  heart,  and  I  wondered  in 
what  way  I  could  have  spent  a  few  dollars  to  pro- 
cure a  larger  amount  of  happiness.  We  had  quite 
a  large  dinner  party  that  evening.  Mr.  Hill,  our 
minister,  was  there,  with  his  wife  and  grown-up 
daughter,  and  some  half-dozen  others  of  our  Caven- 
dish acquaintances.  I  found  the  hour  at  dinner 
rather  heavy  and  tiresome.     My  neighbors  on  my 


1 


'^ORK. 

d  all  too  short. 

chen  to  see  liow 

timepiece,  but 

J- 

re  talked  about 

live,  thau  any- 

riiomas  assured 

smell  of  dinner 

hen  I  heard  his 
!  came  in.  His 
)st  conspicuous 
jaught  the  light 
le  lamp. 

asked  soberly  ; 
)  easily  trapped, 
our  eyes." 
rom  a  bran  new 

their  badinage, 
luel's  face  found 
i  I  wondered  in 
kv  dollars  to  pro- 
We  had  quite 
•.  Mr.  Hill,  our 
e  and  grown-up 
jrs  of  our  Caven- 

hour  at  dinner 
neighbors  on  my 


THE  CHRISTMAS  TREE. 


267 


right  and  left  being — the  one  a  regular  diner-out 
whose  conversation  was  mostly  gustatory,  and  the 
other  a  youth  whose  ideas  never  seemed  to  rise 
above  the  part  of  his  hair  or  cut  of  his  garments. 
I  noticed  Mr.  Bovyer  sitting  further  up  on  the 
other  side  of  the  table  looking  quite  as  bored  as  I 
felt,  his  next  neighbor  being  a  young  lady  the 
exact  counterpart  in  ideas  and  aims  of  the  youth 
beside  me.  The  dinner  itself  was  a  triumph  of 
cook's  skill,  and,  as  is  usually  the  case  with  a  din- 
ner suitably  prepared,  its  effect  was  composing. 
Mr.  Winthrop  neither  drank  wine  nor  smoked,  and 
did  not  encourage  these  habits  in  his  guests;  so 
that  we  all  left  the  table  together  and  proceeded  to 
the  drawing-room.  I  was  the  last  of  the  ladies  to 
pass  from  the  room,  and  Mr.  Bovyer  joined  me 
and  accompanied  me  into  the  drawing-room.  I  was 
getting  interested  in  his  conversation,  when  Mr. 

Winthrop  came  and  urged  for  some  music. 

"  It  is  impossible  just  now  ;  1  do  not  feel  as  if  I 

could  do  justice  even  to  '  Hail  Columbia.' " 

"  Then,  Medoline,  you  will  give  us  some  of  your 

German  songs,  and,  by  the  time  you  are  through, 

Mr.  Bovyer  will  be  in  the  mood  to  enchant  us." 
"  With  the  exception  of  our  school  examinations, 

I  never  played  before  so  many  persons  in  my  life. 

I  shall  find  it  very  hard,"  I  said,  already  beginning 

to  tremble  with  nervousness. 

17 


1  : 


i  ■! 


•J'! 


1 


268 


MEDOLINE  SELWYN^S  WORK. 


"It  will  be  an  excellent  opportunity  to  display 

^"nVface  crimsoned.  Possibly  I  had  allowed  the 
hand  that  wore  my  diamond  ring  a  little  too  much 
freedom ;  but  the  sparkle  of  the  beautiful  gem, 
that  just  now  reminded  me  of  '\l^»g«  f  ^^f  °P' 
pleased  me ;  for  I  was  still  much  of  a  child  at  heart. 
As  we  were  crossing  the  room,  I  said :  "  It  is  not 
good  taste  for  me  to  take  the  piano  first.  Ihere 
are  others  here  who  should  have  been  invited. 

«Tut,  child;  I  never  ask  them.    They  would 
distract  me  with  their  noise." 

"Is  that  not  an  indirect  compliment  for  me  r     i 
said,  looking  up  at  him,  my  good  humor  partially 

restored.  .,  , 

"  I  shall  be  compelled  to  designate  you  the  mark 

of  interrogation-call  you  rogue  for  shortness. 
"  After  this  morning's  experience,  I  shall  not  be 

able  to  find  any  name  nice  enough  for  you,    Isaid, 

^"That  is  cruel-Hterally  smothering  me  with 

coals  of  fire." 

I  turned  over  my  music  with  trembhng  fingers ; 
for,  more  than  all,  I  dreaded  Mr.  Bovyer.  Select- 
ing one  of  the  simplest  songs,  I  sat  down,  deter- 
mined  to  go  resolutely  through  with  it.  When  1 
ceased,  I  found  that  Mr.  Bovyer  had  joined  us.  1 
rose  hastily.  "  I  am  so  glad  you  have  come ;  you  wiU 
reward  my  obedience  to  Mr.  Winthrop,  surely  ( 


mi 
thi 

pli 
ris 
ro( 


go 
da 

foi 
til 
C< 
us 
dii 

ta 

sa 
m 
m 

b€ 
8i| 
in 

P< 

BU 


1 


:%' 


ORK. 

lity  to  display 

lad  allowed  the 
little  too  much 
beautiful  gem, 
iiige  tear-drop, 
[V  child  at  heart, 
said:  "It  is  not 
10  first.  There 
en  invited." 
.    They  would 

lentfor  me?"  I 
humor  partially 

te  you  the  mark 
)r  shortness." 
le,  I  shall  not  be 
for  you,"  I  said, 

hering  me  with 

embling  fingers; 
Bovyer.  Select- 
sat  down,  deter- 
ith  it.  When  I 
lad  joined  us.  I 
ve  come ;  you  will 
hrop,  surely  ?  " 


THE  CHRISTMAS  TREE. 


269 


i*  Yes — by  asking  for  some  more  of  that  tender 
music  of  the  Fatherland.  My  mother  used  to  croon 
that  song  over  us  in  childhood." 

Mr.  Winthrop  joined  his  commands ;  so  I  com- 
plied, with  a  German  martial  song;  and  then, 
rising  quickly,  I  went  to  the  further  side  of  the 
room,  and  took  a  seat  beside  Mrs.  Hill. 

"  You  have  got  tired  before  the  res*^  ^f  us,  dear." 

♦'  I  would  not  like  to  tire  you.  Mr.  Bovyer  is 
going  to  play  now,  and  we  shall  none  of  us  be  in 
danger  of  weariness." 

And  he  did  play  as  I  had  never  heard  him  do  be- 
fore, filling  the  room  with  harmonies  that  some- 
time? grew  painful  in  their  excess  of  sweetness. 
Conversation  ceased  utterly  —  a  compliment  not 
usually  paid  to  musicians,  I  had  noticed,  in  Caven- 
dish. 

I  glanced  occasionally  at  Mr.  Winthrop,  who  had 
taken  a  seat  not  far  from  where  I  was  sitting.  He 
sat  with  eyes  closed,  but  not  betraying,  by  a  single 
muscle  of  the  strong,  self-contained  face,  that  the 
music  was  affecting  him  in  the  slightest. 

"  This  evening  has  given  us  something  to  remem- 
ber until  our  dying  day,"  Mrs.  Hill  said,  with  a  deep 
sigh  of  satisfaction,  after  Mr.  Bovyer  ceased  play- 
ing. "  It  was  exceedingly  kind  in  Mr.  Winthrop 
permitting  us  to  share  in  the  evening's  enjoyment." 

"  Was  it  for  this  he  invited  you  ?  "  I  asked,  with 
surprise. 


!-i   ► 


1 


260  MEDOLINE  8EL  WTN'S  WORK. 

«  That  was  the  inducement  to  leave  our  honiea 
on  Christmas  Day.  But  we  do  not  need  a  special 
inducement  to  come  to  Oaklands;  we  always  con- 
sider it  a  high  privilege  to  be  Mr.  Winthrops 

guest."  I.     V  " 

"  Yes,  he  can  be  very  charming  when  he  chooses, 
I  said,  unthinkingly,  but  very  soiry  for  my  remark 
directly  it  was  uttered.     "  Then  you  were  only  in- 
vited here  this  morning,  since  Mr.  Bovyer  had  only 
just  arrived?"  I  asked. 

"Oh,  no,  indeed;  our  invitations  were  received 
a  week  ago.    Mr.  Winthrop  knew  he  was  coming." 
AH  these  people  knew  Mr.  Bovyer  was  commg, 
and  a  gala  time  planned  for  Christmas,  and  I  was 
kept  in  ignorance.    Mr  Winthrop  don't  regard  me 
of  enough  importance  to   be  intrusted  with  the 
merest  trifles  of  every-day  life,  I  thought,  sorrow- 
fully;  but  just  then  my  eye  fell  on  the  nng,  when 
it  flashed  into  my  gloomy  heart  a  ray  of  light 
brighter  than  any  sunbeam. 

■    The  two  following  days  I  was  so  absorbed  m  my 
Christmas  tree  that  I  paid  very  little  attention  to 
our  guest,  or  anything  going  on  about  me,  save 
what  was  directly  connected  with  the  duty  m  hand. 
A  list  of  all  the  names  had  first  to  be  got,  and  then 
each  gift  properly  labeled.     Muslin   bags,  orna- 
mented with  bright-colored  wools,  were  to  be  made, 
and  filled  with  nuts  and  confectionery ;  and,  last  of 
all,  the  tree  liad  to  be  dressed.     Mr.  Bowen  and 


Di 

th 
les 
ch 
an 
O 
da 
wl 
M 
w 
m 

ar 
a 


C( 

tl 

IS 

T 
t\ 

n 

tl 

8( 


n 


ave  our  homes 

need  a  special 

we  always  con- 

Ir.  Winthrop's 

en  he  chooses," 

for  my  remark 

u  were  only  in- 

Jovyer  had  only 

J  were  received 
[le  was  coming." 
rer  was  coming, 
mas,  and  I  was 

don't  regard  me 
rusted  with  the 
thought,  sorrow- 
n  the  ring,  when 

a  ray  of  light 

0  absorhed  in  my 
ttle  attention  to 

about  me,  save 
the  duty  in  hand. 
■>  be  got,  and  then 
islin  bags,  orna- 
,  were  to  be  made, 
nery ;  and,  last  of 

Mr.  Bowen  and 


THE  CUlilSTMAS  THEE. 


2G1 


Daniel  Blake  entered  so  heartily  into  the  spirit  of 
the  undertaking  that  I  found  my  own  labors  greatly 
lessened.  Thomas  cheerfully  gave  up  his  most 
cherished  plans  to  carry  the  supplies  to  the  hall, 
and  things  generally  went  on  very  satisfactorily. 
Othera,  too,  sent  in  hampers  filled  with  Cluistmas 
dainties ;  among  the  rest,  one  from  Mrs.  Hill,  to 
whom  I  had  very  fully  described  my  undertaking. 
Mrs.  Blake  watched  the  heap  slowly  accumulating 
with  a  veiy  preoccupied  face ;  at  last  she  spoke  her 
mind  freely : 

"  It  seems  a  pity  to  have  all  these  things  eat  up, 
and  get  no  good  from  'em.  Now,  I'd  like  to  charge 
a  trifle,  and  let  every  one  come  that  wants  to." 
"  What  would  be  done  with  the  money  ?  " 
"  There's  plenty  of  ways  to  spend  it ;  but  if  I 
could  have  a  say  in  the  matter  I'd  like  to  give  it  to 
them  poor  little  creatures  I  had  for  dinner  Christ- 
mas. The  mother's  jest  heart-broke.  I  believe 
you  could  count  their  bones;  leastways  all  of 
them  that's  next  the  skin.  I  railly  thought  I  could 
not  get  them  filled ;  but  I  did  at  last,  and  then 
they  was  stupid  like,  they'd  been  short  of  victuals 
so  long." 

"Are  their  clothes  as  poor  as  their  bodies?" 
"  Yes,  indeed ;  and  it  does  seem  hard  this  cold 
weather  for  little  children  to  have  neither  flesh 
nor  flannels  over  the  bones." 

"  I  am  perfectly  willing  to  make  a  small  charge, 


i  \ :, 


!i 


T 


262 


MEDOLINE  SELWYirS  WORK. 


if  you  can  let  it  be  known  in  time  for  the  people  to 
be  prepared." 

"Oh,  Dan'e  and  Mr.  Bowen  '11  see  to  that. 
Put  up  a  notice  in  the  mill  and  post-office ;  every- 
body '11  find  it  out." 

So  it  was  agreed  that  we  should  make  the  grown 
up  folk  pay  something ;  but  I  insisted  the  price 
must  not  exceed  twenty-five  cents. 

I  went  home  to  luncheon  on  Friday,  very  tired, 
but  also  very  enthusiastic  over  our  tree.  If  I 
could  secure  Mr.  Winthrop's  consent  to  a  plain 
dinner,  our  entire  domestic  force  could  attend,  and 
they  were  all  eager  to  do  so.  He  and  Mr.  Bovyer 
were  engaged  in  a  warm  discussion  over  somti 
knotty  subject  as  they  entered  the  dining-room, 
thereby  compelling  me  to  leave  my  question  for 
sometime  unasked.  But  Mr.  Bovyer  presently 
turned  to  me  and  said, 

"  Really,  Miss  Selwyn,  you  must  think  we  have 
forgotten  your  existence." 

"  Oh,  no,  indeed  ;  but  I  should  like  you  to  con- 
verse on  something  within  nearer  range  of  my 
faculties  for  a  little  while." 

"  We  are  all  attention." 

I  turned  to  Mr.  Winthrop  as  he  spoke : 

"Is  it  really  imperative  that  you  have  a  regular 
dinner  to-day?  Could  you  not  take  something 
easily  prepared,  a  cup  of  tea,  for  instance,  and  some 
cold  meats,  and  the  like  ?  " 


m 


T 


WRK. 

:or  the  people  to 

11  see  to  that. 
8tK)ffice;  every- 

make  the  grown 
listed  the  price 

iday,  very  tired, 
our  tree.  If  I 
sent  to  a  plain 
ould  attend,  and 
and  Mr.  Bovyer 
siou  over  somd 
he  dining-room, 
my  question  for 
ovyer  presently 

t  think  we  have 

like  you  to  con- 
er  range  of  ray 


I  spoke : 

u  have  a  regular 

take  something 

stance,  and  some 


THE  CHRISTMAS  TREE. 


263 


"  You  propose  a  genuine  funeral  recast.  Is  any- 
th"'ig  n'  jut  to  happen?  " 

"  Our  Christmas  tree ;  and  our  entire  house- 
hold is  eager  to  go,"  yourself  excepted. 

"  Why  can't  we  all  go?  "  Mr.  Bovyer  suggested, 
with  considerable  eagerness. 

Mr.  Winthrop  looked  aghast. 

"  They  would  think  on  the  Mill  Road  the  millen- 
nium was  dawning  if  Mr.  Winthrop  were  to  step 
down  among  them,  I  said." 

"  Then  by  all  means  let  us  foster  the  illusion." 

"  I  will  take  the  baked  meats,  Medoline,  or  a 
cracker  and  cheese — anything  rather  than  that 
crowd." 

"  That  is  ever  so  kind.  I  will  come  home  to 
brew  you  a  cup  of  tea  myself.  Ever  since  I  was  a 
child  I  have  wanted  to  prepare  a  meal  all  alone — 
it  will  be  really  better  than  the  Christmas  tree  ;  I 
mean  more  enjoyable." 

"You  have  the  greatest  capacity  for  simple 
pleasures  of  any  one  I  ever  knew.  We  shall  ac- 
cept your  services.  Before  you  are  through,  you 
may  find  the  task  not  so  enjoyable  as  you  think ; 
but  at  the  very  worst  we  will  give  our  help." 

"Thank  you  very  much;  but   one   ignoramus 

blundering  in  the  kitchen  will  be  better  than  three." 

Mrs.  Flaxman  looked  greatly  amused,  but  she 

very  willingly  gave  her  consent  for  me  to  come 

home  while  the  guests  were  absorbed  with  their 


264 


MEDOLINE  SELWyy\S  wonK. 


::.;.';! 
|-:;':i 


supper,  and  gratify  my  life-long  yearning.      The 
others  were  quite  as  well  pleased  as  I ;  and  cook 
permitted  me  to  concoct,  unaided,  some   special 
dishes  for  our  repast.     I  laid  the  table  myself,  not 
accepting  the  slightest   help  from  any  one.     My 
cooking  ventures  turned  out  quite  successfully,  and 
after  a  while  my  preparations  were  completed,  so 
far  as  Wivs  possible,  until  the  finishing  touches  just 
before  dinner  was  served.    I  went  and  dressed  my- 
self for  the  evening's  entertainment.     I  took  equal 
pains  with  my  costume,  as  if  I  were  going  to  enter- 
tain a  party  of  friends  at  home,  and  it  may  be  I 
was  foolish  enough  to  have  a  feeling  of  elation 
that  my  Mill  Road  friends  should  see  me  for  once 
dressed  like  a  real  lady.     Tlie  picture  that  my 
glass  gave  back  when  the  pleasant  task  was  all 
completed  was  comfortably  reassuring.    Mrs.  Flax- 
man  I  found  waiting  for  me,  when  I  went  down- 
stairs.   Thomas  had  brought  out  at  her  direction  a 
huge,  old-fashioned  carriage,  that  in  the  old  days 
they  had  christened  "  Noah's  Ark,"  and  into  it  we 
all  crowded,  even  including  Samuel,  wlio  had  an 
ambition  for  once  in  his  life  to  have  a  drive  with 
the  aristrocracy. 

When  we  reached  the  hall,  we  found  it  already 
crowded,  although  it  wanted  a  full  hour  before 
supper  was  to  be  announced.  Mr.  Bowen  was 
doorkeeper,  and  on  the  table  at  his  side  I  was 
glad  to  see  a  goodly  heap  of  coin.     Mrs.  Blake 


si 

81 

IV 

h 

ai 
ie 
ai 
tc 
tl 
cl 
fij 

pi 
m 

SG 

th 
sii 
th 
ps 

th 

gt 

Tl 

fo: 

fa< 
A 
on 
pr 
di 


JL 


"T 


VOHK. 

yearning.      The 
as  I;  and  cook 
d,  801T1C  special 
able  myself,  not 
1  any  one.     My 
mccessf  nlly,  and 
e  completed,  so 
ing  touches  just 
and  dressed  my- 
b.     I  took  equal 
!  going  to  enter- 
ed it  may  be  I 
iling  of  elation 
see  me  for  once 
icture   that  my 
it  task  was  all 
ng.    Mrs.  Flax- 
I  went  down- 
i  her  direction  a 
n  the  old  days 
and  into  it  we 
el,  wlio  had  an 
ve  a  drive  with 

)und  it  already 
ill  hour  before 
'r.  Bowen  was 
his  side  I  was 
1.     Mrs.  Blake 


THE  CriUlSTMAS  TREE. 


265 


stood  near,  regarding  the  money  with  unconcealed 
satisfaction,  which   con-siderably  deepened   when 
Mrs.  Flaxman  stepped  up  and  shook  hands  with 
her.    Daniel  seemed  to  be  master  of  ceremonies, 
and  was  walking  around  with  a  mixed  air  of  anx- 
iety and  satisfaction.    The  work  was  new  to  him, 
and  he  was  somewhat  uncertain  all  the  time  what 
to  do  next.    But  on  the  whole  he  managed  every- 
thing with  good  common    sense.      He  had  the 
children  seated  directly  in  front  of  the  tree,  some 
fifty  of  them,  he  assured  me.     Their  faces  were  a 
picture  of   genuine   childish  delight.      Probably 
memory  would  hold  this  scene  clearly  pictured  on 
some  of  their  hearts  long  after  I  was  sleeping  under 
the  daisies.    Long  tables  were  ranged  down  each 
side  of  the  house,  on  which  was  placed  the  food 
the  people  had  come  to  enjoy.    We  walked  slowly 
past  them,  and  were  surprised  attlie  judgment  and 
good  taste  of  the  arrangements.    I  waited  until 
the  children's  tea  was  over.     They  were  really  the 
guests  of  the  evening,  and  must  be  first  served. 
Then  in  the  bustle  of  getting  the  table  in  readiness 
for  the  older  ones,  I  made  my  escape. 

Thomas  was  waiting  near  to  drive  me  home,  his 
face  quite  radiant  at  the  success  of  our  enterprise. 
Arrived  at  Oaklands,  I  entered  with  great  glee  into 
our  culinary  operations,  and  soon  had  the  dinner 
prepared.  When  my  gentlemen  came  into  the 
dining-room  I  was  sitting,  hot,  and  a  trifle  anxious, 


266 


MKDOLINE  tiEDVYN'S  WOliK. 


at  tlie  head  of  the  table  awaiting  them.   My  respect 
for  the  powers  in  the  kitchen  that  carried  on  our 
domestic  macliiuery  with  so  Utile  jar,  greatly  in- 
creased.    We  had  a  laughable  time  changing  the 
plates   for  our   different    courses.    Thomas,  who 
was  installed  in  Esmeralda's  place  at  the  back  of 
my  chair,  was  about  as  awkward  in  his  new  situa- 
tion as  I  was;  but  at  the  close  of  our  repast,  Mr. 
Winthrop,  with  apparent  sincerity,  assured  us  he 
had  not  enjoyed  a  dinner  so  much  since  his  boy- 
hood— a  compliment  that  fully  repaid  me  for  my 
worry  until  I  had  thought  it  well  over,  and  saw 
that  it  was  capable  of  several  meanings.    I  enter- 
tained them  with  a  lively  description  of  the  sceric 
going  on  at  the  Temperance  Hall.  Mr.  Bovyer  de- 
clared his  intention  of  accompanying  me  on  my 
return — a  resolution,  I  could  see,  that  waa  anything 
but  pleasing  to  Mr.  Winthrop.   I  was  secretly  very 
glad,  since  it  was  possible  he  might  make  a  dona- 
tion to  our  doorkeeper.    Once  on  the  way,  Thomas 
drove  his  horses  as  I  had  never  seen  him  do  before. 
Possibly  he  was  afraid  the  supper  might  all  be  con- 
sumed.    He  had  paid  his  fee,  and  was  resolved  to 
get  his  money's  worth.     He  may  have  hoped  that 
by  some  happy  chance  he  might  sit  down  with 
those  with  whom  he  could  not  expect  on  any  other 
occasion  to  have  a  similar  privilege.    I  paid  par- 
ticular attention  to  Mr.  Bovyer.    As  we  passed 
Mr.  Bowen's  table   I  saw  him    drop,  in    quiet 


ffl 
tt 

ai 
ai 
tl 

ti 

g 
1 

V 
c 

f 

tl 

t 
1 


OUK. 

nil.   My  rcapect 
I  carried  on  our 

jar,  greatly  in- 
B  changing  tlie 

Thomas,  who 
!  at  the  back  of 
I  his  new  situa- 

our  rci)ast,  Mr. 
■,  assured  us  he 
h  since  his  boy- 
paid  me  for  my 

over,  and  saw 
;iiings.  I  enter- 
ion  of  the  sceric 

Mr.  Bovyer  de- 
ying  me  on  my 
lat  was  anything 
vas  secretly  very 
ht  make  a  dona- 
he  way,  Thomas 
n  him  do  before, 
might  all  be  con- 
l  was  resolved  to 
have  hoped  that 
t  sit  down  with 
>ect  on  any  other 
ege.    I  paid  par- 
As  we  passed 

drop,  iu    quiet 


THE  CintlSTMAfi  THEE. 


987 


fashion,  a  bank  note  upon  it.  Mr.  Bowen  hastened 
to  make  change,  but  Mr.  Bovyer  shook  his  head 
and  passed  on.  I  turned  to  look  at  Mr.  Bowen, 
and  saw  his  face  suddenly  light  uj)  so  cheerfully 
that  1  concluded  ho  had  received  a  generous  dona- 
tion. I  led  Mr.  Bovyer  up  where  the  cliildren, 
growing  now  very  curious  over  the  Christmas 
Tree,  were  with  difficulty  preserving  the  pro- 
prieties  of  the  occasion.  He  looked  them  over 
carefully,  as  if  they  were  some  distinct  species 
from  another  planet,  and  then  turning  to  me,  said, 
"  Did  you  say  these  were  all  poor  children  ?  " 

"Their  fathers  are  day  laborers,  and  some  of 
them  are  without  that  useful  adjunct  to  child- 
hood." 

"  They  look  rosy  and  happy." 

"I  presume  they  would  look  happy  under 
present  circumstances  if  their  fathers  were 
tramps.  You  should  see  the  homes  some  of 
them  will  return  to  when  they  leave  here.  You 
would  wonder  at  the  forge tfulness  of  childhood." 

"  How  did  you  chance  to  think  of  this  merry 
gathering  ?  " 

"  I  am  not  sure  it  was  chance.  All  our  thoughts 
do  not  come  in  that  way." 

"  Are  the  children  here  who  are  to  reap  the 
largest  benefit  from  this  affair  ?  " 

"Yes.  Do  you  see  those  pale,  pinched-faced 
girls  w    h  the  pink  cotton  frocks  on,  sitting  at  the 


268 


MEDOLINE  tfA'LVKrA'.S  WOltK. 


!'!,y;; 


end  of  that  farthest  hench,  and  these  two  boys  just 
in  front  with  clothes  several  sizes  too  large?  " 

He  stood  silently  regarding  them  for  some  time, 
and  then  said  :  "  Tlie  world  is  strangely  divided. 
It  is  one  of  the  reasons  that  makes  me  doubt  the 
existence  of  a  beneficent  All-Father." 

"  But  these  may  get  safely  into  the  light  and 
fullness  of  Heaven." 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  thoughtfully  ;  "  but  how  few  of 
them  will  live  up  to  the  requirements  of  admit- 
tance to  that  perfect  place  ?  " 

"  The  rich  have  as  many  shortcomings  as  the 
poor.  Sometimes  I  think  they  have  even  more." 
"  You  are  very  democratic." 
"  Is  that  a  serious  charge  against  me  ?  The  one 
perfect  Being  our  world  has  seen  chose  poverty,  and 
a  lot  among  the  lowly.  When  the  world  grows 
older,  and  men  get  wiser,  possibly  they  will  make 
the  same  choice." 

"  There  have  been  solitary  instances  of  the  like 
along  the  ages — men  of  whom  the  world  was  not 
worthy — but  the  most  of  us  are  not  such  stuff  as 
heroes  are  made  of." 

I  turned  to  him  with  kindling  eyes :  "  Wouldn't 
you  like  to  be  one  of  thorn,  Mr.  Bovyer?  " 

He  gave  me  a  look  that  some  way  I  did  not  care 
to  neet,  and  turned  my  eyes  away  quickly  to  a 
restless  black-eyed  little  girl  who  was  stretching 
eager  hands  to  a  pink-cheeked  dollie. 


S. 
ti 

8E 

n 
h 

D 

t: 
t 

a 
1 
c 
t 


OliK. 

B  two  boys  just 
)o  large  ?  " 
for  some  time, 
angely  divided, 
i  me  doubt  the 
r." 
o  the  light  and 

but  how  few  of 
ments  of  admit- 

tcomings  as  the 
5  even  more." 

t  me  ?    The  one 

ose  poverty,  and 

he  world  grows 

they  will  make 

inces  of  the  like 
e  world  was  not 
lot  such  stuff  as 

'es:   "Wouldn't 

ovyer?" 

ly  I  did  not  care 

ay  quickly  to  a 

)  was  stretching 

lie. 


THE  CHRISryfAS  TREE. 


269 


"You  feel  the  sorrows  of  tlie  poor  and  suffering 
more  keenly  than  the  most  of  us,  I  fear,  Miss 
Selwyn,"  he  said — more  to  draw  me  into  conversa- 
tion than  anything  else. 

"My  sympathies  are  of  a  very  easy-going, 
aesthetic  kind.  Some  of  your  splendid  music 
makes  me  cry.  While  I  listen,  I  think  of  the 
hungry  and  broken-hearted.  I  seem  to  }  \.t  their 
moans  in  the  sob  and  swell  of  the  music.  It  was 
that  which  made  Beethoven's  Symphony  so  sad." 

He  did  not  say  anything  for  a  good  while,  and 
fell  to  watching  the  longing  in  the  children's  faces, 
and  my  heart  grow  v,ry  pitiful  towards  them. 
They  were  so  near  and  yet  so  far  from  the  objects 
of  their  desire.  So  I  resolved  while  the  supper 
table  was  being  cleared  to  begin  the  distribution 
of  my  gifts,  or  rather,  of  Mr.  Winthrop's. 

I  set  Mr.  Bovyer  to  work  gathering  the  bags  of 
confectionery,  while  I  carried  them  around  to  the 
excited  children,  taking  bench  by  bench  in  regular 
order,  and  filling  the  little  outstretched  hands,  usu- 
ally so  empty  of  any  such  dainties.  Tlie  people 
came  crowding  around  to  watch,  while  I  began 
stripping  the  tree  of  its  more  enduring  fruits 
Mothers  with  tears  in  their  eyes,  as  they  saw  their 
little  tots  growing  rapturous  over  an  unclothed 
dollie,  or  some  other  toy,  beautiful  to  the  unaccus- 
tomed eyes  of  the  poor  litfi-  creatures.  The  tree 
was  stripped  at  last,  and  the  children  absorbed  in 


Ml 


1,'H. 


7,;    IV 


270 


MEDOLINE  SELWTirS  WORK. 


the  examination  of  their  own  or  each  other's  pres- 
ents. Most  of  them  seemed  perfectly  content,  but 
a  few  of  the  little  boys  looked  enviously  at  the 
jack-knife  in  a  companion's  hand,  while  casting  dis- 
satisfied glances  at  what  had  fallen  to  themselves. 
It  was  time  at  last  for  the  little  folks  to  go  home, 
and  mothers  soon  were  busy  hunting  up  children 
and  their  wraps. 

The  closing  scene  in  the  entertainment  was  the 
public  announcement  of  the  evening's  receipts; 
and  we  all  looked  with  suiprised  faces  at  each 
other  when  Mr.  Bowen  informed  us  that  there  was 
within  a  few  cents  of  one  hundred  dollars.  "  Some 
of  our  guests  this  evening  have  treated  us  very 
generously ;  notably  one  gentleman  in  particular, 
who  dropped  a  twenty  dollar  bill  on  the  table 
beside  me,"  Mr.  Bowen  said,  in  conclusion.    I 
gave  Mr.  Bovyer  a  meaning  glance  and  also  a  very 
grateful    one;    but    it  was    apparently    thrown 
away ;  for  not  a  muscle  of  his  face  moved  in  re- 
sponse to  my  smile.     Mrs.  Blake  went  around  fur 
a  while  like  one  in  a  dream.     "  Deary  me  1  it'll  be 
jest  like  a  fortin'  to  'em,"  she  ejaculated  at  last ; 
"but  Miss  Selwyn  '11  have  to  take  charge  of  it,  or 
that  mis'able   Bill   Sykes  '11  drink  it  up  in  no 
time." 

And  then  it  was  decided  to  act  on  Mrs.  Blake's 
suggestion,  and  the  money  was  given  to  me  to 
expend  on  Mrs.  Sykes  and  her  children  as  they 


THE  CHRISTMAS  TREE. 


271 


'ORE. 

,ch  other's  pres- 
tly  content,  but 
nviously  at  the 
^hile  casting  dis- 
1  to  themselves, 
oiks  to  go  home, 
;ing  up  children 

anment  was  the 
ling's  receipts; 
I  faces  at  each 
18  that  there  was 
dollars.  "Some 
treated  us  very 
.n  in  particular, 
ill  on  the  table 
I  conclusion.  I 
i  and  also  a  very 
arently  thrown 
36  moved  in  re- 
went  around  fur 
eary  me  1  it'll  be 
.culated  at  last; 
B  charge  of  it,  or 
nk  it  up  in  no 

on  Mrs.  Blake's 
given  to  me  to 
children  as  they 


required, — a  task  soon  accomplished  when  their 
need  was  so  urgent.  We  went  home  that  night 
very  elated  at  the  success  of  our  venture.  Cook 
was  slightly  inclined  to  assume  a  large  share  of  the 
credit,  and  as  her  labor  in  the  matter  of  cake  and 
pastry  making  was  so  much  greater  than  anything 
I  had  done,  I  gracefully  yielded  her  all  the  credit 
she  could  desire.  No  doubt,  in  all  undertakings, 
from  the  capture  of  a  kingdom  to  a  tea  meeting, 
there  are  many  among  to  whom  the  honors  by 
right  belong. 


ii 


iMll; 


■M'r^ 


■•;''iiv 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

THREE  IMPOBTANT  LETTEES. 

lesnNE  evening  when  I  returned  from  a  long 
fSSt  walk,  Esmeralda  gave  me  a  letter  directed 
B^fl  in  the   most  fashionable   style  of  ladies' 
handwriting.     I  was  a  good    deal   surprised  at 
receiving  a  letter  through  such  a  source,  especially 
as  Esmeralda  whispered  me  to  secrecy.     I  had  no 
time  to  break  the  seal,  for  callers  were  waiting; 
and  when  they  left,  Mr.  Winthrop  summoned  me 
to  the  study  fi)r  a  review  of  the  week's  reading. 
This  was  a  custom  he  had  some  time  before  insti- 
tuted, and  I  was  finding  it  increasingly  interesting. 
He  selected  .ny  course  of  reading,  and  a  very  strong 
bill  of  fare  i  was  finding  it,  some  of  the  passages 
straining  my  utmost  power  of  brain  to  comprehend. 
He  had,  as  yet,  confined  me  chiefly  to  German 
literature,  mainly  Kant  and  Lessing,  with  a  dip 
into  Schiller  now  and  then,  he  said,  by  way  of 
relaxation.    He  seemed  gratified  at  the  interest  I 


t( 

P 
a 

V 

li 
i1 
u 
e 
i 
h 
n 
c 
I 
s 
a 
s 
<3 
a 
c 
t 


ITEBS. 

ned  from  a  long 
!  a  letter  directed 
)   style  of  ladies' 
eal   surprised  at 
source,  especially 
icrecy.     I  had  no 
3r8  were  waiting; 
op  summoned  me 
e  week's  reading, 
time  before  insti- 
singly  interesting. 
,  and  a  very  strong 
le  of  the  passages 
ill  to  comprehend, 
ihiefly  to  German 
jssing,  with  a  dip 
!  said,  by  way  of 
i  at  the  interest  I 


THREE  IMPORTANT  LETTERS. 


273 


1 


took  in  his  efforts  to  develop  my  intellectual 
powers,  and  sometimes  he  sat  chatting  with  me, 
after  the  lesson  was  ended,  by  the  firelight,  until  we 
were  summoned  to  dinner.  His  mind  appeared 
like  some  rich  storehouse  where  every  article  has 
its  appointed  place  ;  and  while  it  held  many  a  treas- 
ure from  foreign  sources,  its  own  equipment  was 
equal  to  the  best.  I  could  not  always  follow  him. 
He  gave  me  credit,  I  believe,  for  much  greater 
brain  power  than  I  possessed ;  but  what  I  could 
not  comprehend  made  me  the  more  eager  to  over- 
come the  impediment  of  ignorance  and  stupidity. 
In  these  hours  in  his  own  study,  where  very  few, 
save  myself,  were  permitted  to  enter,  he  laid  aside 
all  badinage  and  severe  criticism.  I  blundered 
sadly,  at  times,  over  the  meaning  of  some  "specially 
difficult  passages ;  but  he  helped  me  through  with 
a  quiet  patience  that  amazed  me.  I  mentioned  it 
one  day  to  Mrs.  Flaxman,  expressing  my  surprise 
that  he  should  so  patiently  endure  my  ignorance, 
and  stupidity. 

"  It  is  just  like  him.  He  has  a  world  ot  patience 
with  any  one  really  trying  to  do  good  work.  I 
think  he  begins  to  understand  you  better.  He  is 
prejudiced  against  our  sex  in  the  mass.  He  thinks 
we  are  more  fond  of  pleasure  than  of  anything  else 
in  the  world  ;  but  if  he  once  finds  his  mistake,  his 
atonement  is  complete." 

"Why  is  he  so  prejudiced?"     I  asked,  hoping 

18. 


'  1 : 


274  MEDOLINE  SELWTirS  WOBK. 

Mrs.  Flaxman  would  continue  the  story  Thomas 

had  begun.  „    .        ^         *« 

"  He  has  had  good  reason.    He  is  not  one  to 

rashly  condemn  one." 

«  But  is  it  not  i-Hsh  to  misjudge  the  many  for  the 
wrong  doing  of  the  single  individual  ?  It  does  not 
prove  all  are  alike."  „  ,  ,.      ,» 

"  Have  you  ever  heard  anything,  Medolme  ( 
She  asked  anxiously. 

"Merely  a  hint,  but  I  have  buUt  many  aatory 

on  that."  4.  *  11,  > 

"  You  must  not  trust  servants  or  ignorant  tolKs 
gossip.    I  hope  your  Mill  Road  friends  do  not  talk 
about  your  guardian." 

"  They  scarcely  mention  his  name.  Mrs.  JilaKe 
cei-tainly  expressed  surprise,  a  long  time  ago,  when 
we  gave  those  vegetables  away,  that  such  a  thing 
should  take  place  at  Oaklands.  I  would  not  per- 
mit  any  one  to  speak  unkindly  of  Mr.  Winthrop  m 
my  hearing,"  I  said,  proudly. 

»  That  is  right ;  he  is  not  easy  to  understand* 
but  one  day  you  will  find  he  is  true  as  steel." 

She  left  the  room  abruptly.  I  fancied  she  was 
afraid  I  might  ask  troublesome  questions.  Now 
as  I  sat  in  the  study,  I  began  to  listen  and  dream 
together,  wondering  what  sort  of  woman  it  was  he 
could  love  and  caress,  and  how  she  could  lightly 
trample  on  his  love.  The  tears  came  to  my  eyes 
as  I  looked  and  listened,  picturing  him  the  central 


WORK. 

he  story  Thoma8 

He  is  not  one  to 

the  many  for  the 
Lual  ?  It  does  not 

ling,  Medoline?" 

luilt  many  aatory 

or  ignorant  folks' 
'riends  do  not  talk 

ame.  Mrs.  Blake 
ng  time  ago,  when 
,  that  such  a  thing 
I  would  not  per- 
if  Mr.  Winthrop  in 

asy  to  understand, 
true  as  steel." 

I  fancied  she  was 
le  questions.  Now 
[)  listen  and  dream 
)f  woman  it  was  he 
f  she  could  lightly 
3  came  to  my  eyes 
ing  him  the  central 


THREE  IMPORTANT  LETTERS. 


27S 


sun  of  a  perfect  home,  with  wife  and  children 
enriching  liis  heart  with  their  love.  When  those 
deep  gray  eyes  looked  into  mine,  my  drooping 
lii8hes  tried  to  conceal  from  tlieir  searching  gaze, 
my  mutinous  thoughts.  Strange  that  this  partic- 
ular evening,  while  1  sat  with  the  half  forgotten 
letter  in  my  pocket,  imagination  was  busier  than 
ever,  while  I  found  it  more  than  usually  diflficult  to 
comprehend  Lessing's  ponderous  thoughts;  and  the 
desire  seized  me  to  leave  these  high  thinkers, 
on  their  lonely  mountain  heights,  and,  with  my 
guardian,  come  down  to  the  summer  places  of 
every-day  life. 

He  noticed  rjy  abstraction  at  last,  for  he  sa'-l 
abruptly : 

"Are  you  not  interested  in  to-day's  lesao  i, 
Medoline?" 

I  faltered  as  I  met  his  searching  eye. 

"  I  am  always  interested  in  what  you  say,  Mr. 
Winthrop;  but  to-day  my  thoughts  have  been 
wandering  a  good  deal." 

"  Where  have  they  been  wandering  to  ?  " 

My  face  crimsoned,  but  I  kept  silent. 

"  I  would  like  to  know  what  you  were  thinking 
about?"  he  said,  gently. 

"  A  young  girl's  foolish  fancies  would  seem 
very  childish  to  you,  after  what  you  have  been 
talking  about." 

"  Nevertheless,  we  like  sometimes  the  childish 


_, 1 


>  i'l 


I!''! 


U  \ 


ii'i 


276  MEhOLINE  SKIAVY^^S  W0B£. 

andinnocent.    I  have  a  fancy  for  it  just  now,  Medo- 

^"'"Please,Mr.  Winthrop,  I  cannot  tell  you  all  my 
thoughts.  They  are  surely  my  own,  and  cannot  be 
torn  from  me  ruthlessly." 

"  What  sort  of  persons  are  you  meeting  now  at 
vour  Mill  Road  Mission?" 

He  suddenly  changed  the  conversation,  to  my 

intense  relief.  .  , 

-  The  very  same  that  I  have  met  all  along,  with 
the  exception  of  the  Sykes  f amily-they  are  a  new 

^'Twerryou  thinking  of  anyone  you  know  there 
iust  now,  that  caused  your  inattention  ? ' 

»  Why,  certainly  not,  Mr.  Winthrop.  I  do  not 
care  so  very  much  for  them  as  that."" 

He  was  silent  for  a  good  while,  in  one  of  his  ab- 
stracted moods  ;  and,  thinking  the  lesson  was  over 
for  that  day,  I  was  about  to  leave  the 'room.  He 
arose,  and,  going  to  the  window,  stood  looking  out 
into  the  night-I  quietly  watching  him,  and  woiw 
dering  of  what  he  was  so  busily  thinking.  Pres- 
ently he  turned,  and,  coming  to  the  table  where  I 
was  sitting,  stood  looking  down  intently  at  me. 

"Medoline,ha3  it  ever  occurred  to  you  that  you 
are  an  unusually  attractive  bit  of  womanhood? 

I  drew  back  almost  as  if  he  had  struck  me  a 
blow.     He  smiled.  ^ 

"  You  are  iis  odd  as  you  are  fascinating,    he  said. 


1( 
I 

i 

V 

h 
■V 

8 
€ 

G 

I 


'ill'lli. 


Ifev 


V0B£. 

just  now,  Medo- 

t  tell  you  all  my 
11,  and  cannot  be 

,  meeting  now  at 

versation,  to  my 

et  all  along,  with 
r — they  are  a  new 

e  you  know  there 

ntion?" 

ithrop.    I  do  not 

lat."' 

,  in  one  of  his  ab- 

e  lesson  was  over 

ve  the  room.    He 

stood  looking  out 

ng  him,  and  won- 

■f  thinking.    Pres- 

the  table  where  I 
intently  at  me. 
3d  to  you  that  you 
f  womanhood?  " 

had  struck  me  a 

scinating,"  he  said. 


THREE  IMPORTANT  LETTERS. 


277 


He  went  to  his  writing-desk.  I  watched  him  un- 
lock one  of  the  drawers  and  take  out  two  envelopes. 
He  came  back  and  stood  opposite  me  at  the  table. 

"I  received,  a  few  days  ago,  a  letter  from  my 
friend  Bovyer,  in  which  he  enclosed  one  for  you, 
which  I  was  at  liberty  to  read.  Probably  I  should 
have  submitted  it  to  you  earlier,  but " 

He  did  not  finish  the  sentence,  and  stood  quietly 
while  I  read  the  letter.    The  hot  blood  was  crim- 
soning my  neck  and  brow,  and,  without  raising  my 
eyes,  I  pushed  the  letter  across  the  table,  without 
speaking.    He  handed  me  another.    A  strong  im- 
pulse seized  me  to  fly  from  the  room,  but  I  had  not 
courage  to  execute  my  desire.    The  second  letter 
was  fully  as  surprising  as  the  first.    It  was  from 
another  of  Mr.  Winthrop's  friends,  who  had  fre- 
quented our  hotel  in  New  York.     I  recalled  his  face 
readily,  and  the  impression  his  manners  and  con- 
versation had  made  on  my  mind.    He  had  fewer 
years  to  boast  than  Mr.  Bovyer,  but  more  good 
looks.    I  finished  his  letter,  and,  still  holding  it  in 
my  hand,  unconsciously  fell  to  recalling  more  dis- 
tinctly my  half-forgotten  impressions  of  his  person- 
ality.   I  remembered  he  could  say  brilliant  things 
in  an  ofif-hand  way,  as  if  he  were  not  particularly 
proud  of  the  fact.    I  remembered,  too,  that  he  had 
genuine  humor,  and  had  often  convulsed  me  with 
a  merriment  I  was  ashamed  to  betray ;  but,  strange 
to  say,  of  3,11  those  who  had  haunted  Mr.  Win- 


ll! 


278 


MEDOLINE  SELWYN'S  WORE. 


throp'8  parloi-s  in  those  two  weeks,  not  one  had  paid 
me  80  little  attention  as  this  Maurice  Graeui ;  and 
now  both  he  and  Mr.  Bovyer  had  written,  asking 
my  guardian's  permission  to  have  me  as  life-long 
companion  and  friend. 

"  What  shall  it  be,  Medoline  ?  You  cannot  say 
yes  to  both  of  them." 

The  question  startled  me. 
"Are  you  very  anxious  for  me  to  leave  Oak- 
lands?"    My  lips  quivered  as  I  spoke. 

«  Why,  child,  that  is  my  trouble  just  now.  I  am 
not  willing  ever  to  lose  you— certainly  not  so  soon 
as  these  impetuous  youths  desire." 

"Mr.  Bovyer  is  not  young,"  I  said,  with  a  light- 
ened heart. 

"  What  shall  I  say  to  them,  then  ?  " 
"  That  I  do  not  want  to  leave  Oaklands.    I  am 
so  happy  here." 

He  made  me  no  reply,  but  turned  again  to  his 
writing-desk,  and  was  locking  *he  letters  safely 
away  when  I  left  the  room.  Then  I  bethought  me 
o!  the  letter  still  unopened  in  my  pocket,  and  was 
hastening  to  my  room,  when  Mrs.  Flaxman  inter- 
cepted me. 

"  Won't  you  come  into  my  room,  Medoline,  just 

for  a  few  minutes  ?  " 

I  followed  her  with  some  reluctance ;  for  Mrs. 
FlAxman's  few  minutes,  I  imagined,  might  extend 
into  a  good  many,  if  she  got  to  talking. 


ml] 


1 


WORE. 

,  not  one  had  paid 
jrice  Graeiii ;  and 
,d  written,  asking 
e  me  as  life-long 

You  cannot  say 


me  to  leave  Oak- 
spoke. 

le  just  now.    I  am 
rtainly  not  so  soon 

[  said,  with  a  light- 
hen?" 
e  Oaklands.    I  am 

arned  again  to  his 
*he  letters  safely 
aen  I  bethought  me 
my  pocket,  and  was 
ilrs.  Flaxman  inter- 

aom,  Medoline,  just 

jluctance ;  for  Mrs. 
;ined,  might  extend 
I  talking. 


THREE  IMPORTANT  LETTERS.  279 

"I  want  to  ehow  the  presents  Mr.  Bovyer  has 
sent  us  from  New  York— one  for  each  of  us." 

She  lifted  the  cover  from  a  box  on  her  stand,  and 
handed  me  the  most  superbly-bound  book  I  had 

ever  seen. 

"  Yours  is  the  prettiest,"  she  said,  admiringly,  as 
I  turned  over  the  leaves,  looking  at  the  engravings. 

"Don't  you  like  it,  dear  ?  "  she  asked,  surprised 
that  I  was  so  silent  over  my  prize.  ^^ 

it  Yes— if  it  had  not  come  from  Mr.  Bovyer.' 

«  Why,  Medoline  1  not  like  a  gift  coming  from 
one  so  kind  and  true  as  he  is?" 

"  I  wish  I  had  never  seen  him."  I  threw  down 
the  book  and  burst  into  tears. 

«  Surely,  Medoline,  you  have  not  fallen  in  love 
with  him  ?  I  should  be  so  sorry,  for  he  is  not  a 
marrying  man."  ,, 

"No,  indeed,"  I  cried,  indignantly ;  "but 

And  then  I  stopped  ;  for  what  right  had  I  to  tell 

his  secret? 

"  Oh,  Mrs.  Flaxman,  is  it  not  dreadful  to  be 
young  ?    Men  are  such  a  trouble." 

"  Why,  my  child,  what  is  the  matter?  You  act 
so  strangely  I  do  not  understand  you." 

"  No?  Well,  I  cannot  explain.  But  won't  you 
ask  Mr.  Winthrop,  please,  if  I  must  keep  this 

book?" 

«  Why,  certainly  you  must  keep  it.  It  would  De 
rude  to  return  Mr.  Bovyer's  gift." 


980 


MEDOLISE  SELU'YN'S  WORK. 


"  But  you  will  ask?" 

"Oh,  yes,  if  yju  insist;  but  ho  will  only  smile, 
and  say  it  is  ouo  of  Modolinc's  oddities." 

I  W(!Ut  to  my  room.  15 nt  tho  traces  of  iny  tears 
must  be  removed,  and  tho  dinner-bell  was  already 
ringing.  However,  at  the  risk  of  being  late,  I  broke 
tho  seal  of  my  letter.  I  was  getting  terrilied  lest 
it  might  bo  another  proi)osal  of  marriage  from8on:o 
unoxi)ectod  quarter;  for,  1  relleeled,  when  misfor- 
tunes begin  to  come  they  generally  travel  in  crowds; 
but  this  was  not  a  love-letter.     It  read: 

"Deau  Miss  Selwyn: — I  have  been  informed 
of  your  kindness  of  luuvrt  and  sympathy  for  all  who 
are  in  distress,  and  therefore  ani  embohlened  to 
come  to  you  for  help.  If  you  would  call  f)U  me 
to-morrow,  at  3  P.  M.,at  Rose  Cottage,  Linden  Lane, 
you  would  confer  a  lasting  favor  on  a  sorrowing 
sister.     I  am  yours,  very  respectfully, 

"  IIeumione  Le  Grande." 

P.  S. — I  must  ask  for  perfect  secrecy  on  your 
part,  and  that  no  mention  whatever  of  ray  name, 
or  letter,  be  made  at  Oaklauds.  I  trust  to  your 
honor  in  the  matter.  H.  L. 


I  locked  the  letter  up  in  my  drawer  and  hast- 
ened to  the  dinner  that  certainly  would  not  be  kept 
waiting  for  me.  I  was  hoping  that  the  question 
about  Mr.  Bovyer's  book  would  be  asked  and 
answered  in  my  absence  ;  but  was  disappointed ; 


OliK. 

,vill  only  smile, 
.itios." 

ices  of  iny  tears 
)oll  was  already 
iiig  lute,  I  broke 
ig  toiriliecl  lest 
riagc  from  somo 
tl,  when  misfor- 
ravel  in  crowds ; 
I'cad : 

been  informed 
)alhy  for  all  who 

emboldened  to 
mill  call  f)U  me 
;e,  Liiuleu  Lane, 
an  a  sorrowiug 

[jE  Grande." 


lecrecy  on  your 
er  of  ray  name, 
I  trust  to  your 
H.  L. 


Irawer  and  hast- 
ouldnot  be  kept 
at  the  question 
be  asked  and 
s  disappointed ; 


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THREE  IMPOliTANT  LETTERS. 


281 


for  just  as  Mr.  Winthrop  arose  from  the  table,  at 
the  close  of  dinner,  Mrs.  Flaxman  mentioned  the 
arrival  of  the  books,  and  whence  they  came. 

"  It  is  quite  profitable,  chaperoning  young  ladies, 
you  will  find ; "  he  said,  dryly. 

"  But,  Medoline  does  not  wish  to  keep  hers.  She 
acted  quite  strangely  about  it ;  and  insists  that  I 
must  ask  you,  if  she  shall  keep  it." 

"Mr.  Bovyer  would  feel  aggrieved  if  we  re- 
turned his  present.  I  think  you  must  keep  it,"  he 
said,  turning  to  me. 

"  Most  young  ladies  I  have  known  are  proud  to 
get  keepsakes  from  your  sex." 

"  I  hope  Medoline  is  not  going  to  be  a  regulation 
young  lady." 

"  Why,  Mr.  Winthrop,  what  has  caused  you  to 
change  your  mind?  You  used  to  condemn  me  for 
being  so  very  unconventional." 

"  I  have  made  the  discovery  that  you  have  some- 
thing better  in  its  stead,"  he  said,  quietly.  I  looked 
up  quickly  to  speak  n\y  thanks,  but  kept  silent. 

"  Yes,  Medoline  is  the  only  one  of  us  that  tries 
to  do  her  duty  by  others.  She  has  helped  the  poor 
more  in  the  few  months  she  has  been  here,  than  I 
have  done  in  nearly  twenty  years." 

"  But  she  confines  her  benefits  to  the  poor  and 
bereaved  solely.  She  seems  to  forget  the  prosper- 
ous may  be  heavy-hearted,"  Mr.  Winthrop  sug- 
gested with  a  smile. 


:| 


282 


MEDOLINE  SELWYN'8  WOBK. 


w ' 


1 

it" 


('      1 

I- 


"I  do  not  intermeddle  with  that  which  lies 
beyond  my  skill  to  relieve.  Any  person  can  re- 
lieve poverty  if  they  have  money." 

"  Possibly  you  are  wise  to  confine  your  helpful- 
ness to  the  simpler  cases  of  sorrow." 

"  I  think  the  griefs  of  the  rich  are  mostly  imag- 
inary and  selfish.  In  this  beautiful  world,  if  we 
have  our  freedom,  and  health,  and  plenty  of  money, 
we  are  simply  foolish  to  be  down-hearted;  only 
when  death  takes  away  our  dear  ones ;  and  after 
a  time  the  pain  he  gives  ceases  to  smart." 

"You  are  very  practical,  Medoliue,  and  look 
through  spectacles  dipped  in  sunshine." 

"  Well,  I  believe  she  is  right,"  Mrs.  Flaxmau 
said,  with  an  air  of  sudden  conviction.  '*  We  are 
not  half  thankful  enough  for  our  blessings  and 
persist  in  wearing  the  peas  in  our  shoes  for  pen- 
ance, when  we  might  as  well  soften  them  like  that 
wise-hearted  Irishman.  It  would  be  a  blessing  if 
Medoline  had  medicine  for  other  griefs  than  those 
poverty  causes." 

I  saw  her  cast  a  meaning  look  at  Mr.  Winthrop, 
which  brought  the  color  to  my  cheek,  and  set  me 
to  soberly  thinking  if  I  might  not  bring  him  sur- 
cease from  bitter  thoughts,  and  then  it  occurred  to 
me,  with  all  this  commendation  was  there  not  grave 
danger  of  my  getting  uplifted  unduly  ? 

"  It  seems  to  me  that  you  and  Mr.  Winthrop  go 
to  extremes  in  your  estimate  of  me.    First,  you 


:  WOBK. 

L  that  which  lies 
iiy  person  can  re- 

ifine  your  helpful- 

)W." 

1  are  mostly  imag- 
tiful  world,  if  we 
i  plenty  of  money, 
>wn-hearted ;  only 
r  ones  ;  and  after 
a  smart." 

idoline,  and  look 
shine." 

t,"  Mrs.  Flaxman 
iction.  "  We  are 
)ur  blessings  and 
our  shoes  for  pen- 
ten  them  like  that 
Ld  be  a  blessing  if 
r  griefs  than  those 

at  Mr.  Winthrop, 
cheek,  and  set  me 
ot  bring  him  sur- 
hen  it  occurred  to 
as  there  not  grave 
iduly  ? 

Mr.  Winthrop  go 
)f  me.    First,  you 


i.i 


THREE  IMPORTANT  LETTERS. 


283 


keep  me  so  low  in  the  valley  of  humiliation  that 
I  well  nigh  lose  heart,  and  then  you  hoist  me  on  a 
pedestal,  making  me  grow  dizzy  with  conceit.  I 
suggest  that  we  pass  a  law  not  to  talk  about  each 
other  at  all." 

"  But  you  cannot  hope  to  be  perfect  unless  wise 
friends  point  out  your  foibles,"  Mr.  Winthrop  as- 
sured me. 

"  I  have  never  expected  to  reach  such  a  height. 
It  would  be  so  lonely  for  me,  you  know— no  society 
of  my  own  kind,  save  here  and  there  a  poor  and 
humble  soul,"  I  said,  wickedly. 

"Nevertheless,  one  should  make  the  effort  to 
stand  on  the  top  round  of  the  ladder  of  human 

excellence." 

"  It  is  a  long  ladder,  and  the  climb  is  wearisome, 
and  death  soon  interposes  and  ends  our  ambition," 
I  said,  wearily. 

"  But  you  have  such  perfect  assurance  respect- 
ing the  to-morrow  of  death,  you  must  believe  that 
excellence  gained  here  will  be  so  much  capital  to 
carry  with  you  into  that  life ;  but  you  implicit  be- 
lievers very  often  voice  your  faith  rather  than  live 
it,"  Mr.  Winthrop  remarked,  with  a  touch  of  his 
accustomed  sarcasm. 

"  Mr.  Bowen  lives  his  quite  as  well  as  he  talks 
it,  but  he  is  the  nearest  perfection  of  any  human 
being  I  ever  expect  to  meet." 

«That   is    Imrd   on    our  set,  Mrs.  Flaxman. 


284 


MEDOLINE  SELWYN'S  WORK. 


•^1  i-i 


i  r 


lU 


,',i.i' 


if 


Medoline,  it  seems,  lias  fislied  out  of  the  slums  a 
veritable  saint,  and  handsome  as  he  is  good.  If  I 
remember  right  he  is  a  widower." 

"  Yes,  certainly,  he  is  the  one  she  got  the  suit  of 
clothes  for  when  she  was  in  New  York." 

He  turned  to  me  abruptly  and  asked, 

"How  old  is  he?" 

*'  I  have  never  asked  him,"  I  said  mischievously, 
♦♦  but  he  looks  older  than  you." 

"  Medoline,  what  are  you  saying  ?  He  was  a 
grandfather  years  ago." 

"  And  I  am  afraid  that  is  an  honor  which  Mr. 
Winthrop  will  never  attain,"  I  tried  to  say  sym- 
pathetically. 

Mrs.  Flaxman  cast  him  a  startled  look ;  but  he 
smiled  very  calmly  as  if  the  words  had  merely 
amused  him. 


Ml/ 


VORK. 

of  the  slums  a 
he  is  good.   If  I 

e  got  the  suit  of 

i^ork." 

I  asked, 

d  mischievously, 

ng?    He  was  a 

onor  which  Mr. 
ried  to  say  sym- 

led  look ;  but  he 
rds  had  merely 


CHAPTER  XX. 


MBS.  LB  GBAOTJE. 


WAS  impatient  for  the  appointed  hour 
to  come  when  I  was  expected  at  Rose 
Cottage.  I  had  tried  to  get  further  in- 
formRtion  from  Esmerelda  respecting  Mrs.  Lo 
Grande ;  but  she  seemed  unwilling  to  say  much 
about  her,  leaving  me  more  mystified  than  ever. 

"You  will  know  all  pretty  soon  from  her  own 
lips,  Miss,  and  it  would  cost  me  my  place  if  Mr. 
Winthrop  knew  I  was  meddUng  with  what  didn't 

concern  me." 

"  Mr.  Winthrop  is  not  a  severe  master.  I  think 
he  interferes  very  little  with  our  household  mat- 

"But  this  is  different;  and  please.  Miss  Sel- 
wyn,  don't  let  on  to  a  soul  that  I  gave  you  that 
letter.  Mrs.  Le  Grande  said  if  I  didn't  take  it 
some  one  else  would ;  and  it  was  an  easy  way  to 
earn  a  trifle." 


!  t  f 


u' 


fi  .1    I 


iiii 


286 


itELOLlNS  SELWTN'a  wouk. 


"  But  if  there  is  anything  wrong  in  the  matter  it 
is  the  hardest  way  in  the  world  to  get  money,"  I 
said,  perplexed  at  her  words. 

Linden  Lane  lay  back  from  Oaklands  a  mile  or 
more,  and  led  me  on  a  road  I  had  never  traversed 
before,  although  I  had  often  planned  to  take  it  on 
some  of  my  exploring  journeys.  But  it  led  away 
from  the  sea  shore,  and  that  probably  was  the 
reason  I  had  hitherto  neglected  it.  There  was  a 
strip  of  woodland  belonging  to  the  Oaklands 
estate  through  which  a  part  of  the  road  lay. 
There  had  been  a  recent  fall  of  snow,  and  this  was 
still  clinging  heavily  to  the  trees,  especially  to  the 
spruce  and  hemlocks,  bringing  strangely  to  mind 
the  muffled,  mysterious  figures  of  the  Sisters  of 
Charity  and  Nuns,  as  I  used  to  see  them  gliding 
about  the  streets  of  the  old  world  cities.  Here 
and  there  interspersed  with  the  evergreens  were 
beech,  and  maple,  and  other  hardwood  growths, 
with  their  graceful  leafless  branches  stretching  up 
like  dumb  pleading  hands  toward  the  pitiful  sky. 
I  grew  so  interested  seeking  out  specially  pic- 
turesque forest  growths,  and  glimpses  into  the 
still  woodland  depths  under  the  white  snow  wraith 
which  I  might  come  again  to  study  more  closely, 
and  put  on  my  canvas,  that  I  so  far  forgot  the  busi- 
ness of  the  hour  as  to  find  myself  a  half  hour  after 
the  appointment  at  still  some  distance  from 
Linden  Lane.    Shutting  my  eyes  resolutely  on 


U 
tl 
n; 
h 
n 
o 
o 
t] 
ri 
n 
r 
y 
ii 
I 
f 
a 
t 


wonK. 

g  in  the  matter  it 
to  get  money,"  I 

aklands  a  mile  or 
1  never  traversed 
ned  to  take  it  on 
But  it  led  away 
3robably  was  the 
it.    There  was  a 

0  the  Oaklands 
jf  the  road  lay. 
low,  and  this  was 
,  especially  to  the 
;rangely  to  mind 
9f  the  Sisters  of 
see  them  gliding 
)rld  cities.     Here 

evergreens  were 
rdwood  growths, 
les  stretching  up 

1  the  pitiful  sky. 
ut  specially  pic- 
[impses  into  the 
trhite  snow  wraith 
idy  more  closely, 
ar  forgot  the  busi- 
"a  half  hour  after 
B  distance  from 
es  resolutely  on 


MRS.  LE  GRANDE. 


2S7 


the  rarest  bits  of  landscape  caught  now  and  then 
through  a  chance  opening  in  the  trees,  I  walked  at 
my  best  speed  along  the  drifted  road.  Esmerelda 
had  described  the  cottage  so  minutely  that  I  had 
no  trouble  in  recognizing  it.  Once  prtst  the  strip 
of  woodland,  a  bend  in  the  road  brought  me  at 
once  into  a  thick  cluster  of  houses  with  a  few  linden 
trees  bordering  the  street  that  had  given  to  it  its 
rather  poetical  and  alliterative  name.  One  house 
much  more  pretentious  than  tha  rest,  I  at  once 
recognized  to  be  Rose  Cottage.  I  rang  the  bell  and 
was  80  quickly  admitted,  I  concluded  the  tidy  look- 
ing little  maid  had  been  postud  at  the  door  on  the 
lookout  for  me.  I  gave  her  my  card  and  inquired 
for  Mrs.  Le  Grande  ;  a  formality  quite  unnecessary, 
as  she  assured  me  she  knew  who  I  was  and  that 
the  lady  was  already  waiting  for  me. 

"Just  come  this  way.  She  has  f.  parlor  up- 
stairs ;  and  my  I  but  its  a  stunner." 

I  received  the  information  in  perplexed  silence. 
But  the  little  maid  apparently  did  not  look  for  en- 
couragement, for  she  continued  chattering  until 
the  door  of  the  "  stunning  "  apartment  was  closed 
behind  her.  A  bright  fire  was  burning  in  the  grate 
at  my  left.  In  the  swift  glance  with  which  I  took 
in  all  the  appointmefnts  of  the  room  I  acknowledged 
that  the  girl's  description  was  correct.  The  walls 
were  lined  with  pictures  which  I  could  see  were 
gems ;  rich  Turkish  rugs  concealed  the  common 


3i  11 1 ! 


28d 


MEDOLtNE  SELWrifa  IVOBK. 


N>'*) 


H{p 


'1 


wood  floor ;  while  on  brackets  and  stands  were 
ornaments  of  rarest  design  and  workmanship.  I 
had  only  a  few  moments,  however,  to  gratify  my 
curiosity ;  for  a  portiire  at  the  farther  end  of 
the  room  was  lifted,  and  a  vision  of  female  love- 
liness met  ray  view  such  as  I  had  never  seen  be- 
fore. Probably  the  surroundings,  and  the  unex- 
pected appearance  of  thin  beautiful  woman,  height- 
ened the  effect. 

She  paused  and  looked  at  me  intently.  Instinct- 
ively I  shrank  into  myself.  She  seemed  to  be  in 
some  swift,  clear-sighted  way  taking  my  measure, 
and  labeling  the  visible  marks  of  my  personality. 
Then  she  came  graciously  forward,  her  step  re- 
minding me,  in  its  smooth,  gliding  motion,  of  some 
graceful  animal  of  tlje  jungle  that  -might  both 
fascinate  and  slay  you. 

Her  eyes  were  of  that  dark,  velvety  blue,  that 
under  strong  emotion  turns  to  purple,  and  when 
she  chose  could  melt  and  appeal  like  a  dumb 
creature's,  whose  only  means  of  communicating  their 
wants  is  through  their  eyes.  The  lashes  were  long 
and  curved  ;  her  complexion  delicate  as  a  rose  leaf, 
with  a  fitful  color  vanishing  and  re-appearing  in 
the  peachy  cheek  apparently  as  she  willed  it.  Her 
hair,  a  rare  tint  of  golden  auburn  was  wreathed 
around  her  head  in  heavy  coils  that  reminded  me  of 
the  aureoles  the  old  masters  painted  about  the  bef>,u- 
tiful  Madonna  faces.     Her  mouth,  I  concluded, 


wa 
tee 
sh( 
far 
we 
fa( 
af 
mi 

W8 

pe 

pa 
of 
ve 
fir 

W( 

ar 
SI 
hf 


le 
bi 
ai 
le 

le 
h) 


ind  stands  were 
vorkmanship.  I 
r,  to  gratify  my 
farther  end  of 
I  of  female  love- 
l  never  seen  be- 
i,  and  the  unex- 
l  woman,  height- 

ently.  Instinct- 
seemed  to  be  in 
.ng  my  measure, 
my  personality, 
rd,  her  step  re- 
motion,  of  some 
hat  -might  both 

jlvety  blue,  that 
urple,  and  when 
&\  like  a  dumb 
imnnicating  their 
lashes  were  long 
ate  as  a  rose  leaf, 
I  re-appearing  in 
le  willed  it.  Her 
rn  was  wreathed 
it  reminded  me  of 
d  about  the  befuU- 
th,  I  concluded, 


MRS.  LE  anANDB. 


289 


was  the  one  defect  in  tiie  otherwise  perfect  face.  The 
teeth  were  natural  and  purely  white,  but  long,  and 
sharp,  reminding  one  in  a  disagreeable  way  of  the 
fangs  of  an  animal  of  prey ;  the  lips,  a  rich  scarlet, 
were  too  thin,  and  tightly  drawn  for  a  judge  of 
faces  to  admire ;  the  chin  was  clear-cut  and  firm— 
a  face  on  the  whole,  I  decided,  that  might  drive  a 
man,  snared  by  its  beauty,  to  desperation.  There 
was  passion  and  power  both  lurking  behind  the 
pearl-tinted  mask. 

Her  attitudes  were  the  perfection  of  grace— ap- 
parently, too,  of  unstudied  grace,  which  is  the  mark 
of  the  highest  art  in  posing.  She  sat  in  a  purple 
velvet  easy-chair,  whose  trying  color  set  off  her 
fine  complexion  perfectly.  Her  voice  was  low  and 
well  modulated,  but  it  had  no  sympathetic  chords ; 
and  therefore  I  could  not  call  it  musical  or  pleasing. 
She  thanked  me  in  very  exaggerated  terms  for 
having  responded  to  her  appeal. 

I  exclaimed,  rather  impulsively,  in  reply— 
"  I  expected  to  find  the  author  of  that  pathetic 
letter  in  great  distress,  and  came,  hoping  to  relieve ; 
but  I  cannot  be  of  any  service  here."  I  glanced 
around  the  luxuriously  appointed  room,  and  then 
let  my  eyes  rest  on  her  elaborate  costume. 

She  smiled,  "  You  are  young,  and  have  not  yet 
learned  that  rags  and  poverty  seldom  go  hand  in 
hand  with  the  bitterest  experiences  of  life." 

"  That  is  the  only  kind  of  trouble  I  am  sufB- 


t  I 


I,  > 


«90 


MEVOLINE  SELWrirs  WORK. 


:i   in 


oiently  experienced  to  meddle  with.   For  ioiaginary 
or  abstract  woe  you  should  seek  some  older  helper. 
I  would  suggest  Mrs.  Fliixraiin.    She  has  more 
patience  with  refined  mourners  than  1." 
"  Mrs.  Flaxman  could  do  me  no  good." 
Tears  stood  iu  her  eyes,  makiug  them  more 
beautiful  than  ever,  and  quite  softening  my  heart. 
"  Won't  you  lay  aside  some  of  your  wraps  ?    I 
shall  feel  then  as  if  you  will  not  desert  me  at  any 
moment.     The  room  is  warm,  and  they  are  only 
an  incumbrance." 

I  complied,  and  removed  my  hat  and  fur 
cloak,  which  were  beginning  to  make  me  uncom- 
fortably warm.  She  wheeled  another  easy-chair 
and  bade  me  take  that ;  my  eyes,  grown  suddenly 
keen,  took  in  the  fact  that  the  velvet  covering  was 
suited  to  my  complexion. 

"What  artistic  taste  you  must  have  when  you 
are  so  fastidious  about  harmony  in  colors,"  I  said, 
admiringly. 

"  One  might  as  well  get  all  the  possible  conso- 
lation out  of  things.  The  time  for  enjoying  them 
is  short,  and  very  uncertain." 

She  drew  a  low  ottoman  and  sat  down  close  to 
me.  "  I  have  a  long,  sad  story  to  tell  you,  and  1 
want  to  be  within  touch  of  your  hand.  You  will 
perhaps  be  too  hard  on  me." 

She  sat,  her  face  turned  partly  from  me,  gazing 
intently  into  the  fire.    Perhaps  she  had  a  natural 


drc 
mi{ 

tlii 
pal 
hei 
thi 
sui 
dii 
sel 
Sh 
ok 
pr 
cri 
m( 

CM 


in 
ba 
w< 

fu 


pi 

tr 


,^\; 


VORK. 

.   For  ioiaginary 
)iue  older  helper. 
She   has  more 
an  1." 

good." 

kiug  them  more 
tening  my  heart. 

your  wraps  ?  I 
desert  me  at  any 
d  they  are  only 

ly  hat  and  fur 
(lake  me  uncom- 
aother  easy-chair 
,  grown  suddenly 
Ivet  covering  was 

t  have  when  you 
n  colors,"  I  said, 

e  possible  conso- 
or  enjoying  them 

lat  down  close  to 
to  tell  you,  and  1 
hand.      You  will 

^  from  me,  gazing 
ihe  had  a  natural 


MRS.  LB  QRANDK. 


291 


I 


dread   of  going  over  a    chapter  in  her  life    she 
might  wish  had  never  been  written. 

Meanwhile  the  wonder  kept  growing  on  me  why 
this  exquisite  woman  should  come  to  mo  for  sym- 
pathy. A  feeling  of  pride,  too,  began  swelling  my 
heart  to  think  that  I  could  be  of  use  to  others 
than  the  hungry  and  naked,  while  I  thought  of  the 
surprising  account  I  should  have  to  give  at  the 
dinner-tuble  that  evening,  of  my  adventure.  My 
self-complacency  was  destined  to  a  rude  shock. 
She  turned  to  me  suddenly,  and  asked,  "How 
old  would  you  take  me  to  be  ?  "  I  looked  niy  sur- 
prise, no  doubt,  but  began  directly  to  examine 
critically  the  face  before  me.  "  I  want  you  to  tell 
me  the  truth.  We  don't  value  flattery  from  our 
own  sex ;  at  least,  I  do  not." 

I  could  see  no  trace  of  time's  unwelcome  tooth 
in  that  smooth,  ivory  skin,  as  unwrinkled  as  a 
baby's  face,  while  the  rounded  outlines  and  dimples 
would  have  graced  a  ddbutant<5. 

"  You  are  a  long  time  deciding,"  she  said,  play- 
fully—tlie  color  coming  fitfully  under  my  scrutiny. 

"I  will  hazard  twenty,  but  you  may  be  older." 

"  You  think  not  any  younger  than  that  ?  "  The 
curving  lashes  drooped  and  an  entirely  new  ex- 
pression swept  over  the  charming  face. 

"  Now  you  look  almost  a  child,"  I  exclaimed  with 
surprise.  "  You  are  a  mystery  to  me,  and  I  won't 
try  to  guess  any  more,  for  it  is  pure  guess  work." 


,:|-.( 


f4'\\ 


\  \ 


'  t 


f    I'll 


&  , '  I 


114? 


WM 


292  MEDOLINE  SELWYN'S  WORK. 

She  laughed  merrily.  "You  are  greatly  mis- 
taken. I  was  twenty-six  yesterday."  I  may  have 
looked  incredulous,  and  she  was  very  keen  to  read 
ray  thoughts. 

"  You  do  not  believe  me.  Did  you  ever  hear  of 
a  woman  over  twenty  making  herself  out  older 

than  she  was  ?  " 

"  M"  experience  is  but  limited."  I  still  believed 
that  for  some  reason  of  her  own  she  was  deceiving 
me  respecting  her  age. 

"  When  you  hear  my  story  your  surprise  will  be 
that  I  do  not  look  six  and  thirty,  instead  of  a 
decade  younger." 

Her  next  question  was  more  startling  than  the 
fii-st.     "  How  do  you  like  Mr.  Winthrop  ?  " 

I  replied  guardedly  that  I  liked  him  very  well. 

"Excuse  me,  but  that  is  not  a  correct  reply. 
No  one  that  cares  for  him  at  jfll  does  so  in  that 
moderate  fashion.     They  either  love  or  hate  him." 

"  Have  you  ever  known  him  intimately  enough 
to  be  able  to  say  how  he  is  liked,  or  deserves  to 

be?" 

She  answered  me  by  a  low  ripple  of  laughter. 
My  perplexity  wsvs  increasing,  but  I  quite  decided 
this  Hermione  Le  Grange,  as  she  called  herself,  had 
not  a  very  sad  heart  to  get  comforted. 

"Do  you  find  Mr.  Winthrop  very  amiable,  in 
fact  would  you  call  him  a  lady's  man  ?  " 

I  paused  to  think  carefully  what  answer  I  should 


fCtfiiW. 


'fl  WOBK. 

)U  are  greatly  mis- 
rday."  I  may  have 
iS  very  keen  to  read 

)id  you  ever  hear  of 
J  herself  out  older 

ed."  I  still  believed 
rn  she  was  deceiving 

your  surprise  will  be 
thirty,  instead  of  a 

re  startling  than  the 
,  Winthrop?" 
liked  him  very  well. 
not  a  correct  reply, 
it  jfll  does  so  in  that 
er  love  or  hate  him." 
m  intimately  enough 
liked,  or  deserves  to 

w  ripple  of  laughter. 

I,  but  I  quite  decided 

she  called  herself,  had 

amforted. 

irop  very  amiable,  in 

ly'sman?" 

'  what  answer  I  should 


MRS.  LE  GRANDE. 


293 


give.    "  If  he  were  a  lady's  man,  probably  before 
this  he  would  have  taken  one  for  a  wife." 

"You  have  only  answered  half  of  my  question," 
she  said  so  gently  I  could  not  resent  it. 

"My  guardian  is  very  patient  and  indulgent 
with  me.  If  he  were  more  so  I  should  find  it  hard 
to  leave  him  some  day." 

"  You  mean  when  the  day  of  marriage  comes?" 
"  I  have  not  thought  anything  of  marriage  yet. 
I  mean,  not  seriously.  Every  young  girl  has  her 
dreams,  I  suppose  ;  but  mine  as  yet  are  very  vague 
and  unreal.  At  twenty-one  I  am  my  own  mis- 
tress. Then  probably  my  life  of  ease  will  come  to 
an  end." 

"  Ah,  you  have  dreams  of  a  career.  From  what 
my  servants  tell  me  I  concluded  you  were  not  one 
of  our  regulation,  conventional  young  ladies." 

My  cheeks  flushed  ;  for  this  was  a  tender  place 
for  her  to  touch." 

"Is  Mr.  Winthrop  pleased  that  you  are  so 
thoughtful  of  the  poor,  and  so  generous  in  your 
impulses  ?  " 

"Really,  Mrs.  Le  Grande,  you  would  make  an 
excellent  lawyer.  I  do  not  think  I  have  had  so 
many  personal  questions  since  I  came  to  America. 
School  girls  forget  themselves  sometimes,  when 
they  are  of  a  very  inquisitive  disposition." 

She  looked  me  fully  in  the  eyes  as  she  said: 
**  You  have  been  wonderfully  patient  and  very  cir- 


1      > 


If/  M 


294  MEDOLINE  SELWYN'S  WORK. 

cumspect.  I  am  sure  in  his  heart  Mr.  Wiuthrop 
respects  you  even  if  he  is  at  times  a  trifle  cavaUer 
in  his  behavior."  Her  eyes  were  still  upon  me 
with  the  innocent,  chUd-like  expression  on  her  face 
I  was  beginning  to  understand  and  fear.  I  said 
very  calmly:  "He  can  be  exceedingly  fascinating 
when  he  chooses,  and  if  he  really  cared  for  one,  I 
cannot  imagine  anything  he  would  hesitate  to  do 
for  them,  provided  it  was  honorable.  I  could  not 
conceive  him  stooping  to  a  mean  or  unworthy 

action." 

"  Mr.  Winthrop  will  be  flattered  when  I  repeat 

your  words." 

♦'  Then  you  know  him  ?  "  ^^ 

•*  You  will  think  so  when  you  hear  my  story. 


if 


w 


WORK. 

it  Mr.  Wiuthrop 
J  a  trifle  cavalier 
re  still  upon  me 
ession  on  her  face 
and  fear.  I  said 
iingly  fascinating 
Y  cared  for  one,  I 
lid  hesitate  to  do 
ible.  I  could  not 
lean  or  unworthy 

:ed  when  I  repeat 


I  hear  my  story." 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

MBS.  LB  GRANDB'S  8T0BY. 

IID  you  ever  hear  that  Mr.  Winthrop  was 
within  one  day  of  being  married?" 
My  surprise  at  first  rendered  me  speech- 
less ;  but  at  last  I  murmured,  "  No." 

"  Then  you  have  never  heard  the  tragedy  of  his 
life.    You  have  heard  that  for  some  reason  he  was 
embittered  against  our  sex." 
"  A  mere  hint." 

"  So  I  should  judge,  or  the  rest  would  also  have 
been  told.  Your  acquaintance  have  been  rema,rk- 
ably  guarded.  Well,  I  will  tell  you  all  about  it." 
"  I  do  not  wish  you  to  tell  me.  I  think  Mr. 
Winthrop  desires  I  should  never  know  the  partio- 
ulars  of  that  circumstance,  eke  Mrs.  Flaxman 
would  have  told  me." 

"  You  are  very  sensitive  about  your  guardian. 
Women  cannot  afford  such  fine  sense  of  honor, 


ill 


iL 


\  I    I 

111 


296 


MEDOLINE  SELWTN'S  WORK 


Men  do  not  treat  us  in  that  way.  If  they  find  we 
have  a  skeleton  concealed  somewhere,  they  will 
not  rest  until  it  is  brought  out  into  the  glaring 
light,  for  eveiy  evil  eye  to  gloat  on." 

"  Not  every  man.  Many  of  them  would  help  us 
to  conceal  what  gave  us  pain.  I  believe  Mr.  Win- 
throp  is  one  of  them.  Then  should  I  listen  to  what 
he  wishes  buried  in  oblivion  ?  " 

"  It  may  be  for  his  happiness  that  you  should, 
dear;  and  my  ^tory  and  his  are,  for  awhile,  the 

same." 

I  had  risen  to  put  on  my  hat  and  cloak  to  get 
away  from  the  temptation  she  pressed  upon  me ; 
but  at  her  last  words  I  sank  back  into  the  chair. 

"  Can  you  be  the  woman  he  loved  and  was  to 
marry  ?  "  • 

"Would  it  surprise  you  very  much  if  I  said 

Yes?" 

"It  would,  and  it  would  not." 

"  Your  words  are  ambiguous.  I  was  told  you 
were  exceedingly  frank  and  impulsive,  but  one 
cannot  always  believe  the  public  verdict." 

I  was  silent.  I  recognized  I  had  a  clever  woman 
to  deal  with,  and  for  some  reason  she  wished  to 
use  me  for  her  own  purpose,  I  was  assured.  She 
arose,  and  crossing  the  room  disappeared  through 
the  tapestry  portiSre.  I  watched  her  as  she  moved 
gracefully  away,  her  long  silken  robe  seeming  to 
give  additional  height  to  her  already  tall  figure. 


WORK. 

If  they  find  we 
ewhere,  they  will 
into  the  glaring 
on." 

lem  would  help  us 
[  believe  Mr.  Win- 
Id  I  listen  to  what 

that  you  shoidd, 
e,  for  awhile,  the 

and  cloak  to  get 
pressed  upon  me ; 
ick  into  the  chair. 

loved  and  was  to 

y  much  if  I  said 


,  I  was  told  you 
npulsive,  but  one 
3  verdict." 
ad  a  clever  woman 
son  she  wished  to 
was  assured.  She 
sappeared  through 
I  her  as  she  moved 
n  robe  seeming  to 
already  tall  figure. 


MBS.  LE  GRANDETS  STORY. 


297 


She  presently  returned,  bringing  a  richly  bound 
album,  and  laid  it,  open,  on  my  knee  I  glanced 
at  it,  and  saw  my  guardian's  pictured  face  looking 
at  me,  brighter,  happier  than  it  had  ever  done  m 

reality.  ^^ 

"  Does  he  look  like  that  now  ? 
I  studied  the  picture  before  I  answered. 

"His  face  looked  nobler  as  I  watched  it  last 
night  while  he  was  talking  of  some  of  his  favonte 
authors.  It  is  stronger  now,  though.  Noble 
thoughts  have  matured  the  Unes  that  were  then 
only  imperfectly  formed." 

"Does  he  admit  you  to  his  study  and  converse 
on  his  favorite  themes?"  she  asked,  the  childlike 
expression  vanishing  suddenly  from  her  face. 

"  Yes." 

"Do  you  understand  and  enjoy  what  he  says?" 

"I  do  not  understand  all  he  says.    I  am  trying 
to  lift  myself  to  a  nearer  level  with  him." 

«  Ah,  you  aim  to  be  learned.  His  tastes  must 
have  greatly  changed,  if  he  admires  such  females. 
Her  eyes  fell,  but  I  fancied  there  was  a  gleam  in 
them  not  altogether  pleasant  to  behold.  I  re- 
mained silent,  not  caring  to  explain  it  was  Mr. 
Winthrop's  wish  that  I  should  continue,  to  some 
extent,  the  work  that  had  occupied  so  many  years 
of  my  life.  She  turned  the  leaf  of  the  album,  and 
her  own  face  looked  out  at  me,  not  any  more  beau- 


'*  1 


.J. 


m 


'    A 


'I 


MKDOLINE  SELWTN'S  WORK. 

tiful  than  now,  but  still  as  perfect  as  a  poet's 
dream. 

"  We  had  these  taken  the  same  day ! " 

She  turned  still  another  leaf  and  they  sat 
together,  she  looking  sweetly  at  me,  but  his  oyes, 
I  could  fancy  resting  on  her  with  a  look  in  them  I 
had  never  seen. 

"  He  had  the  artist  destroy  the  negative,  but  I 
secured  this  one,  he  fancies  the  flames  have  swal- 
lowed them  all.  You  will  have  no  further  scruples 
listening  to  his  story  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  have  scruples.  Much  as  I  would  like 
tio  hear  it,  I  desire  you  to  tell  me  nothing  but  what 
you  feel  certain  he  would  be  willing  for  me  to  hear. 
Otherwise  I  cannot  look  into  his  eyes  without  a 
feeling  of  guilt." 

"  I  did  not  think  there  was  such  a  ridiculously 
conscientious  woman  on  the  earth.  Believe  me, 
you  are  formed  after  a  very  unusual  pattern.  But 
you  must  at  least  hear  my  story ;  otherwise  you 
cannot  help  me." 

"I  have  been  waiting  with  what  patience  I 
could  command  for  the  last  hour  to  hear  it.  I  must 
be  home  before  night-fall,  and  it  is  now  approach- 
ing sunset." 

She  turned  partly  away,  thereby  giving  me  the 
better  opportunity  to  admire  the  perfect  contour 
of  face  and  neck,  with  the  color  coming  and  going 
fitfully  as  she  talked. 


li 
h 


m  I K 


I 


ORE. 

;ct  as  a  poet's 

lay!" 

and  they  sat 
I,  but  his  oyes, 
look  Id  them  I 

[legative,  but  I 
nes  have  swal- 
urther  scruples 

i  I  would  like 
thing  but  what 
for  me  to  hear. 
Byes  without  a 

a  ridiculously 
.  Believe  me, 
[  pattern.  But 
otherwise  you 

lat  patience  I 
bear  it.  I  must 
now  approach- 
giving  me  the 
erfect  contour 
ling  and  going 


MRS.  LE  GRANDE'S  STORY. 


399 


"  Like  you,"  she  said,  "  I  was  an  orphan,  and 
like  you  I  was  very  rich." 

I  started  with  surprise.  She  looked  at  me  in 
her  keen,  intuitive  way. 

"  What !  did  you  not  know  you  were  an  heiress  ?  " 

"  I  have  never  had  the  curiosity  to  ask.  Mr. 
Winthrop  will  explain  everything  at  the  proper 

time." 

*'  An  old-fashioned  woman,  truly,  patterned  after 
the  immortal  Sarah,  who  called  Abraham  her  lord," 
she  said,  with  a  soft  little  laugh  that  angered  me 
exceedingly. 

"  The  beginning  of  our  destiny  has  been  some-* 
thing  alike— both  orphans,  and  both  rich  beyond 
our  utmost  need.  I  too  was  educated  on  the  other 
side  of  the  sea,  first  in  a  quiet  little  English  town, 
Weston-Super-Mer,  where  my  grandmother  lived, 
and  afterward  in  Paris.  If  I  had  never  gone  to 
the  latter  place,  I  might  not  be  sitting  here  com- 
pelling a  scrupulous  listener  to  hear  my  story." 

She  was  silent  awhile,  a  half-suppressed  sigh 
escaping  her,  over  these  bygone  memories.  She 
continued  her  story : 

«I  was  quick  to  learn,  soon  acquiring  the  accom- 
plishments  necessary  for  a  woman  of  the  world  to 
know ;  and,  finding  my  guardian  easy  to  manage, 
I  escaped  from  the  restraints  of  the  school-room 
much  earlier  than  is  usual,  and  plunged  into  the 
gayeties,  first  of  Parisian,  and  afterward  of  New 


300 


MEDOLINE  SELWYN'S  WORK. 


*l  St' 


1    s 


|| 
,11 

Avtm 


'^W'i 


York  society.  I  became  a  belle  from  my  finst  ball, 
and  was  soon  almost  wearied  with  conquests  that 
caused  rae  no  effort.  One  evening  I  met  Mr.  Win- 
throp.  My  chaperone,  the  following  day,  gave  me 
a  detailed  history  of  himself  and  fortune,  and  rec- 
ommended me  to  secure  him  for  a  husband.  I 
resolved  to  bring  him  to  my  feet,  reserving  the 
privilege  of  accepting  or  not,  as  I  chose.  I  subse- 
quently found,  in  order  to  meet  him,  it  was  neces- 
sary for  me  to  forsake,  occasionally,  the  ball-room, 
and  to  frequent,  in  its  stead,  the  concert  and  lec- 
ture hall.  By  degrees  I  gained  his  notice,  and  the 
very  diflBculty  of  winning  him  made  the  task  all  the 
more  congenial.  Like  you,  I  developed  a  fondness 
for  literature,  and,  in  order  the  more  quickly  to 
gain  the  desired  knowledge,  I  consulted  diction- 
aries, encyclopaedias,  and  hired  private  tutors  to 
cram  me  with  poetry,  history,  and  information  gen- 
erally of  art  and  its  manufacturers.  At  first  I 
could  see  he  was  more  amused  than  fascinated  at 
my  shallow  acquirements.  But  gradually  ray  per- 
sonal charms,  rather  than  mental,  conquered  his 
proud  reserve,  and  the  ghmce  of  his  eye  came  to 
express  more  than  mere  amusement  at  my  exhibi- 
tions of  knowledge,  or  cold  admiration  for  the 
beauty  I  strove  more  than  ever  to  heighten.  If  I 
found  him  hard  to  conquer,  the  exultation  when 
my  task  was  achieved  was  correspondingly  great, 
Vhile  I  knew  his  judgment  rebelled  against  giving 


'I   (. 


'^ORK. 

)m  my  finst  ball, 
conquests  that 
I  met  Mr.  Win- 
ig  day,  gave  me 
srtune,  and  rec- 
a  husband.  I 
,  reserving  the 
jhose.  I  subse- 
n,  it  was  neccs- 
,  the  ball-room, 
oncert  and  lec- 
notice,  and  the 
!  the  task  all  the 
)ped  a  fondness 
jore  quickly  to 
isulted  diction- 
ivate  tutors  to 
iformation  gea- 
rs. At  first  I 
ti  fascinated  at 
idually  ray  per- 
conquered  his 
is  eye  came  to 
it  at  my  exhibi' 
iration  for  the 
heighten.  If  I 
sultation  when 
ondingly  great, 
'.  against  giving 


MRS.  LE  ORANDSra  STORY. 


301 


I 


his  love  to  one  his  inferior  in  those  things  he  best 
esteemed.     But,  to  skip  a  long  bit  of  the  story,  we 
were  engaged  and  the  marriage  day  set ;  but  as  our 
intimacy  ripened,  the  conviction  grew  upo.i   me 
that  I  should  have  a  master  as  well  as  husband ; 
and  I  made  the  discovery,  before  very  long,  that 
the  greater  part  of  our  time  was  to  be  passed  at 
Oaklands,  since  the  solitude  best  suited  his  liter- 
ary tastes.     I  knew  very  well  that  he  would  soon 
get  absorbed  in  those  pursuits  from  which  I  had 
been  able  to  draw  him  for  a  brief  time,  and  then  I 
would  be  compelled  to  satisfy  myself  with  the  mild 
excitement  of  conjugal  affection,  housekeeping,  and 
the  insipid  tea-drinkings  for  which  Cavendish  has 
been  noted.    Not  very  long  after  our  engagement, 
I  met,  at  a  grand  society  ball,  George  Le  Grande. 
He  professed  to  have  fallen  in  love  with  me  at  first 
sight,  and  his  wooing  had  all  the  passionate  ardor 
of  a  Southern  nature;  for  he  was  born  in  the 
Sunny  South,  his  father  being  a  wealthy  French 
planter.     After  my  betrothed's  somewhat  Platonic 
love,  his  passionate  worship  was  acceptable,  and,  as 
the  hour  of  my  pastoral  life  at  Cavendish  drew 
near,  my  fancy  turned,  irresistibly,  towards  the  free, 
gay  life  Le  Grande  offered  me.    We  had  grown  so 
intimate  I  confessed  to  him  my  repugnance  to  the 
mild  joys  awaiting  me.    Here  I  made  my  great 
mistake  ;  for,  with  his  brilliant  imagination,  he  drew 
charming  pictures  of  what  our  life  might  be,  tied 


It 


u 


302 


ilEBOLINE  SELWTIPS  WORE. 


I'fe  if? 

m  f 


teNsi 


to  no  particular  spot,  but  free  to  roam,  citizens  of 
all  lands.  My  trousseau  was  nearly  completed ;  but 
the  choosing  and  trying  on  of  fine  gnrmentsdid  not 
still  the  mutinous  thoughts  seething  in  my  brain. 
One  evening — shall  I  forget  it  in  a  thousand  years? 
— while  Mr.  Winthrop  was  at  Oaklands,  overseeing 
some  special  preparations  to  do  honor  to  the  home- 
coming of  his  bride,  I  met  Le  Grande  at  a  ball. 
He  danced  superbly,  and  he  was  my  partner  that 
evening  in  so  many  dances  that  my  chaperone  be- 
gan to  look  darkly  at  me ;  while  I  saw  many  a 
meaning  glance  directed  at  us.  But  I  was  fancy- 
ing myself  more  in  love  with  my  gay  partner  than 
ever,  and  once,  in  a  pause  of  the  dances,  when 
he  whispered,  'If  to-night  would  only  last  for- 
ever, with  you  at  my  side,  I  should'  be  content,' 
"  I  came  swiftly  to  the  conclusion  that  life  without 
George  Le  Grande  would  be  tasteless,  and  resolved 
then  and  there  to  yield  to  his  entreaties  and  fly 
from  my  solemn  bridegroom.  But  my  mind  was 
wavering,  and  I  kept  putting  it  off  until  the  very 
night  before  my  marriage  morn  that  was  to  be. 
We  left  the  city  by  a  midnight  train,  and  after 
travelling  until  morning  we  stopped  at  a  country 
village — ^really  I  forget  the  name,  il  1  ever  knew  it 
— and  were  married  in  a  little  country  church  by  a 
dull,  old  minister  who  regarded  us  suspiciously  all 
the  time  he  was  performing  the  ceremony.  I  was 
sure  he  thought  us  a  runaway  couple,  but  that  did 


I  WORE. 

)  roam,  citizens  of 
rly  completed ;  but 
16  garments  did  not 
liing  in  my  brain. 

a  thousand  years  ? 
i,klands,  overseeing 
lonor  to  the  home- 
Grande  at  a  ball. 
,s  my  partner  that 

my  chaperon  e  be- 
ile  I  saw  many  a 

But  I  was  fancy- 
r  gay  partner  than 
the  dances,  when 
lid  only  last  for- 
lould'  be  content,' 
n  that  life  without 
eless,and  resolved 
entreaties  and  fly 
But  my  mind  was 
off  until  the  very 
I  that  was  to  be. 
it  train,  and  after 
jped  at  a  country 
5,  il  1  ever  knew  it 
untry  church  by  a 
us  suspiciously  all 
ceremony.  I  was 
>uple,  but  that  did 


MRS.  LE  GRANDE'S  STORY. 


303 


not  trouble  me  so  much  as  that  obscure  marriage 
with  a  heavy-looking  pair  brouglit  in  from  a  cot- 
tage near  at  hand  to  witness  the  ceremony.  I  kept 
contrasting  it  with  the  stately  ceremony  that  was 
to  have  taken  place  nearly  at  the  same  hour,  in  old 
Trinity,  with  the  organ  pealing  forth  the  wedding 
march,  the  rush  of  guests  and  sight-seers,  orange 
blossoms  and  perfumes,  and  all  the  bewildering 
vanities  of  a  fashionable  wedding.  Before  I  had 
signed  my  maiden  name  for  the  last  time,  I  began 
to  regret  my  rash  step,  and  ere  the  month  was 
ended  the  thorns  of  my  ill-advised  sowing  were 
springing  up  around  me.  We  were  neither  of  us  so 
constituted  as  to  make  the  best  of  a  bad  bargain, 
and  our  married  life  had  scarce  begun  when  we 
began  magnifying  each  other's  failings,  and  soon 
our  brief  passion  had  burnt  itself  out.  Ah,  me  I 
with  what  regret  I  used  to  look  back  to  this  quiet 
town,  and  the  stately  calm  of  Oaklands,  after  one 
of  our  vulgar  quarrels.  I  learned  too  soon  that 
my  husband  was  a  gambler,  and  that  my  fortune 
had  been  a  more  coveted  prize  than  myself;  but 
fortunately,  neither  of  us  could  touch  anything 
but  the  interest  until  my  eldest  child  should  come 
of  age.  So  often  in  my  free-hearted  days  we  had 
made  merry  over  my  father's  ridiculous  will  I  Now 
how  T  thanked  him  for  his  wise  forethought  while 
my  husband  stormed  because  it  was  so  far  beyond 
his  reach  I    We  might  have  lived  in  all  my  accus- 


■:;  - 


V'^ 


8M 


MEDOLINE  aKLWTN'a  WOBK. 


tomed  Btyle  on  the  interest  if  my  husband  had 
been  just ;  but  now,  instead  of  sumptuous  apparel 
I  had  to  make  the  best  of  garments  bought  before 
my  marriage,  while  cheap  hotels  took  the  place  of 
my  former  elegant  surroundings.  My  one  passion- 
ate desire  was  to  be  free  from  this  hated  union  and 
many  a  time,  no  doubt,  I  was  a  murderess  in  my 
heart  in  my  longing  to  see  him  dead.  At  last  my 
wish  was  granted.  He  was  brought  home  to  me 
one  night,  a  pistol-shot  through  his  heart,  received 
in  a  low  gambling  hell.  I  did  not  trouble  to  inquire 
the  particulars.  He  has  been  dead  a  year.  I  have 
returned  to  America— for,  at  the  time  of  his  death, 
we  were  in  Europe.  I  have  waited  a  decent  time ; 
and  now,  can  you  guess  what  has  brought  me  to 
Cavendish?" 

I  shrank  away  from  her  when  she  turned  towards 
me,  a  gracious  smile  on  her  face.  "  You  are  silent. 
Is  it  a  hopeless  errand  I  have  come  on,  think  you?  " 

"  If  you  have  come  to  seek  Mr.  Winthrop's  par- 
don, I  think  it  is •" 

"  You  do  not  realize  my  influence  over  him.  I 
could  bend  him  to  my  will  like  the  merest  child." 

I  opened  the  album  which  still  lay  on  my  knee. 
"  You  must  not  expect  to  meet  the  same  man  you 
knew  here.  He  has  changed— matured  since  then 
— if  I  can  judge  from  his  face." 

"  His  heart,  I  am  convinced,  is  unchanged.  He 
is  not  one  to  forget  the  one  passion  of  his  life.  You 


ha 
mi 

pc 
be 
I< 
or 
st 
h( 

d( 

cc 

w 

tl 

ee 
fc 


ni 
m 

U 

m 
n 

81 


. L 


'onK. 

y  husband  had 
nptuous  apparel 
\  bought  before 
»ok  the  place  of 
My  one  passion- 
lated  union  and 
lurderess  in  my 
,d.  At  last  my 
;ht  home  to  me 

heart,  received 
rouble  to  inquire 

a  year.  I  have 
ime  of  his  death, 
1  a  decent  time ; 

brought  me  to 

B  turned  towards 
"  You  are  silent, 
on,  think  you?  " 
Winthrop's  par- 
ice  over  him.  I 
le  merest  child." 
lay  on  my  knee. 
e  same  man  you 
itured  since  then 

unchanged.  He 
1  of  his  life.  You 


MRS.  LE  ORANDS'S  STORY. 


m 


have  not  gauged  the  depths  of  his  character.    Ah. 
me  1  that  I  should  have  flung  such  a  man  away  I " 

I  made  no  reply,  seeing  she  was  convinced  of  her 
power ;  but,  witli  all  her  maddening  grace  and 
beauty,  I  kept  the  hope  still  that  she  would  fail. 
I  could  fancy  Mr.  Winthrop  trampling  ruthlessly 
on  the  strongest  pleading  of  his  heart  sooner  than 
stoop  to  the  degradation  of  a  second  time  asking 
her  to  be  his  wife. 

"  You  have  been  thinking  it  all  out,  and  have 
decided  there  is  no  chance  for  me." 

♦'  How  do  you  know  ?  "  I  asked,  startled  by  her 
correct  guess. 

»*Your  face  is  a  very  open  page.  Be  careful 
when  you  get  to  love  a  man,  which  as  yet  I  do  not 
think  you  have  ever  done,  lest  your  secret  may  too 
easily  be  discovered.  Men  usually  care  very  little 
for  what  costs  them  no  trouble." 

My  face  flushed  hotly,  but  I  made  her  no  reply. 

"I  expected  you  to  flash  back  that  you  were 
never  gfoing  to  fall  in  love.  It  is  the  way  with 
most  unsophisticated  young  people." 

"  If  I  should,  and  my  love  is  returned,  I  will  be 
faithful  to  any  vows  I  may  make." 

"  My  dear  friend,  you  are  too  inexperienced  to 
make  such  rash  promises.  You  !:>  not  know  what 
mutinous  elements  are  slumbering  In  your  heart." 

"  God  help  me  to  have  principle  enough  to 
smother  them  if  they  are  there  and  get  wakened." 

20 


1  1 


:ii 


m 


MEDOLINS  SELWYN'S  WOR^. 


Si  llliMtlkini 

I     >- 
J 


I'M 


.Si 

3' 


I  rose  to  go,  as  night  w.^js  rapidly  falling. 

"  I  can  stay  no  longer  and  so  far  as  my  helping 
you  is  concerned,  1  have  been  summoned  uselessly," 
I  said,  coldly. 

"  No,  indeed ;  I  have  heard  that  you  were  very 
pure  minded,  and  see  the  public  estimate  of  your 
character  is  correct.  I  want  you  to  teach  me  to  be 
like  you,  true  and  good." 

She  looked  into  my  eyes  with  such  a  guileless  ex- 
pression that,  for  an  instant,  I  thought  she  might  be 
tired  of  her  old,  heartless  life,  and  long  to  be  better. 
I  stood  looking  with  some  perplexity  into  the  fire, 
scarce  knowing  what  to  say  ;  but,  turning  my  eyes 
suddenly,  I  saw  a  mocking  gleam  pass  over  her 
face. 

"  You  would  find  it  very  tame  patterning  after 
I  would  advise  you  to  seek  some  higher 


me. 


ideal — one  more  worthy  yoiu  ,  iiperior  powers."  I 
bowed  and  was  turning  towards  the  door. 

"Just  one  moment  longer — won't  you  come 
again  ?  I  have  a  favor  to  ask  of  you,  but  the 
moments  have  slipped  away  so  rapidly  I  have  not 
had  time  to  say  all  I  want.  Tell  me,  do  you  not 
think  I  have  sinned  past  all  forgiveness,  and  should 
become  an  outcast  from  Oaklands  and  its  master? 
Is  that  the  old-fashioned  Christianity  the  Bible 
teaches  ?  " 

♦•  I  cannot  say  that  it  is  not." 

**  Do  you  not  say  every  day  '  Forgive  us  our 


pidly  falling. 

so  far  as  my  helping 

ummoned  uselessly," 

I  that  you  were  very 
►lie  estimate  of  your 
ou  to  teach  me  to  be 

;h  such  a  guileless  ex- 
thought  she  might  be 
and  long  to  be  better, 
•plexity  into  the  fire, 
but,  turning  my  eyes 
gleam  pass  over  her 

ame  patterning  after 
jO  seek  some  higher 
.  tiperior  powers."  I 
rds  the  door, 
sr — won't  you  come 
ask  of  you,  but  the 
JO  rapidly  I  have  not 
Tell  me,  do  you  not 
)rgiveness,  and  should 
lands  and  its  master? 
hristianity  the   Bible 

t." 

day  '  Forgive  us  our 


i1 


MRS.  LH  GRAKt)X'a  STORY. 


807 


trespasses  as  we  forgive  them  that  trespass 
against  us  ? ' " 

*'  Yes.  But  the  one  who  has  done  the  wrong  is 
commanded  to  do  his  or  her  part  also,  to  bring 
forth  fruits  showing  their  repentance." 

"  Am  I  not  about  to  do  that  when  I  humble  my* 
self,  as  I  shall  do  at  the  first  suitable  opportunity, 
to  that  proud  man  ?  " 

"  Are  you  not  suing  for  more  than  that  ?  Have 
you  come  here  merely  to  be  forgiven  ?  " 

"You  must  not  turn  inquisitor.  I  have  not, 
however,  offended  against  you,  therefore  you  will 
corae  to  see  me  again.  Shall  we  say  to-morrow? 
I  seem  to  feel  as  if  Oaklands  and  Mr.  Winthrop 
were  brought  near  to  me  when  you  are  present." 

"  I  cannot  promise  to  come  again  this  week,  at 
least." 

"  Shall  we  say  next  Monday  tlien  ?  But  it  seems 
such  a  long  time  to  wait.  I  was  not  trained  to 
patience  in  childhood,  and  I  find  it  a  difficult  task, 
learning  it  now." 

"  Unless  something  unforeseen  should  happen  to 
prevent,  you  may  look  for  me  on  Monday  next." 
I  promised,  feeling  a  sort  of  pity  for  her  in  her 
lonely  condition. 

"  Just  one  word  more.  Your  guardian,  they  tell 
me,  does  not  attend  church  regularly." 

"  Mr.  Winthrop  does  not  profess  to  be  a  religious 
man." 


i.i 


rt 


308 


MEDOLINE  SELWTirS  WORK, 


fee  ' 


^1 


"  Could  you  not  influence  him  to  a  better  life  ? 
Have  you  ever  asked  him  to  accompany  you  to 
church  ? 

"  Certainly  not.  He  is  a  better  judge  than  I  as 
to  his  duty  in  the  matter." 

"  I  do  not  think  so.  I  fear  he  is  drifting  very 
far  from  his  boyhood' s  teachings.  His  mother  was 
a  perfect  woman,  so  far  as  I  have  been  able  to 
learn." 

I  looked  my  surprise ;  for  I  had  not  expected 
to  hear  such  words  from  her  lips. 

"  You  must  not  judge  me  so  harshly,"  she  said, 
with  gentle  reproach.  "  I  hope  I  am  not  quite  so 
bad  as  you  think." 

"I  am  very  glad  you  are  interested  in  Mr. 
Winthrop,  for  other  than  selfish  reasons,"  I  said, 
bluntly. 

She  bowed  her  head  meekly.  "  You  will  try  to 
influence  him  then  in  the  matter  of  church  going 
and  other  pure  endeavors — won't  you  ?  " 

"  I  will  try,"  I  promised,  rather  uncertainly. 

"  And  begin  at  once." 

"  Yes.  I  have  given  you  the  promise  and  usually 
keep  my  word." 

"  Then  good-bye  until  next  week." 
The  lamps  were  lighted  when  I  passed  along  the 
oak  walk  that  was  my  nearest  approach  home  to 
Oaklands,  and  the  fact  that  I  had  broken  my  pro- 
mise to  Mr.  Winthrop  never  again  to  remain  out 


WORK. 

to  a  better  life? 
Bcompany  you  to 

r  judge  than  I  as 

!  is  drifting  very 

His  mother  was 

Bive  been  able  to 

lad  not  expected 

larshly,"  she  said, 
I  am  not  quite  so 

aterested   in   Mr. 
1  reasons,"  I  said, 

"  You  will  try  to 
r  of  church  going 
b  you  ?  " 
3r  uncertainly. 

romise  and  usually 

jek." 

I  passed  along  the 
approach  home  to 
ad  broken  my  pro* 
'ain  to  remain  out 


MBS.  LE  GRANDE'S  STORY. 


309 


alone  after  night  filled  me  with  alarm  and  self- 
reproach.  I  succeeded  in  gaining  the  house 
unperceived  and  was  in  abuudaut  time  for  dinner, 
which  I  feared  might  have  been  served. 


':    i 


^.^4r^ 


^  m-t^ 


i^^-^' 


CHAPTER  XXII. 


THE  CHANGED  HEART. 

HEN  I  entered  the  softly  illumined  dining- 
room,  I  was  surprised  to  find  Mr.  Winthrop 
standing  near  the  fire,  and  gazing  into  it 
with  a  pre-occupied  expression.  Mrs.  Flaxman 
was  sitting  in  her  favorite  corner,  a  book  lying 
open  on  her  knee,  her  ej'es  fixed  on  Mr.  Winthrop 
somewhat  anxiously.  Instinctively  I  felt  some- 
thing unusual  had  disturbed  their  serenity— the 
sympathetic  influences  about  me  in  the  air  which 
most  of  us  know  something  about,  acquainted  me 
with  the  fact.  I  was  almost  beside  Mr.  Winthrop 
when  he  began  to  say,  "Medoline  must  not 
know"— the  sentence  was  left  unfinished,  for  Mrs. 
Flaxman  seeing  me  said,  abruptly, 
"Why,  Mr.  Winthrop,  here  is  our  runaway." 
He  turned  towards  me,  a  startled  look  in  his  eyes. 


THE  CHANGED  UEART. 


311 


I. 


KT. 


Ilumined  dining- 
td  Mr.  Winthrop 
i  gazing  into  it 
Mrs.  Flaxman 
sr,  a  book  lying 
n  Mr.  Winthrop 
ly  I  felt  some- 
ir  serenity — the 
in  the  air  which 
,  acquainted  me 
e  Mr.  Winthrop 
)line  must  not 
inished,  for  Mrs, 

our  runaway." 
look  in  his  eyes. 


«'Have  you  been  out?"  he  asked,  with  some  sur- 
prise at  her  remark. 

"  Yes,"  I  looked  at  him  with  a  pathetic  interest 
never  felt  before. 

"Visiting  your  Mill  Road  pensioners?"  he  said, 
with  a  peculiar  gesture,  as  if  trying  to  rid  himself 
of  some  unpleasant  reflection. 

"  Not  to^iay,  I  do  not  go  there  every  time  I  am 

out." 

"No,  indeed,  Medoline  does  not  confine  her 
kindness  to  those  poor  folk  alone,"  Mrs.  Flaxman 
interposed. 

"  You  do  not  seek  for  the  sorrowful  elsewhere, 

I  hope?" 
"The  heavy-hearted  are  not  confined  to  that 

locality  alone,  Mr.  Winthrop." 

"You  include  those  also  in  your  ministries  of 
mercy,"  he  said,  with  that  rare  smile  which  strongly 
reminded  me  of  a  bright  gleam  of  sunshine  falling 
on  a  hidden  pool. 

"  I  am  not  so  vain  as  to  think  I  can  reach  their 
case.  After  I  have  experienced  the  ministry  of 
sorrow,  I  may  touch  sad  hearts  and  comfort  them." 

"  You  are  not  anxious  to  suffer  in  order  to  do  this. 
Remember,  misery  sometimes  hardens." 

"  If  we  take  our  miseries  to  God,  He  can  turn 
them  into  blessed  evangels,"  I  replied  softly. 

"Where  did  you  learn  that  secret,  Medoline?" 

"  It  was  Mr.  Bowen  who  taught  me.    God  left 


I 


m 


;ii 


w 


312 


MEDOLINE  SELWTN'S  WORE. 


him  in  the  darkness,  and  then  gave  him  songs  in 
the  night— such  grand  harmonies,  his  life  became 
like  a  thanksgiving  Psalm." 

"  I  hope  you  are  not  going  to  indulge  in  cant, 
Medoline.  It  does  very  well  for  poor  beggars  like 
them ;  but  for  the  enlightened  and  refined  it  is 
quite  out  of  place." 

"The  very  noblest  specimens  of  humanity  who 
have  cUmbed  to  the  utmost  peaks  of  intellectual 
excellence  thought  as  Mr.  Bowen  does  ;  as  I  hope 
to  think— God  helping  me,  as  I  do  think,"  I  said, 
with  a  strange  gladness  coming  into  my  heart  as  if 
the  old,  hard  heart  had  been  suddenly  changed  and 
made  clean  for  the  Master's  entrance. 

"  Poor  little  girl,  I  wish  you  had  something  more 
tangible  than  illusions  to  rhapsodize  over." 

My  eyes  fiUed  with  such  happy  tears  as  I  lifted 
them  to  him,  standing  at  his  side.  "  If  you  could 
only  trust  God,  believe  in  Him  as  Mr.  Bowen  does, 
you  would  find  every  other  delight  in  life  illusive, 
compared  with  the  joy  He  would  give  you." 

"  Child,  is  that  your  own  experience  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  I  murmured  softly. 

He  turned  and  left  the  room  abruptly,  I  went 
to  Mrs.  Flaxman,  and,  kneeling  beside  her,  my 
head  on  her  knee— a  posture  we  both  enjoyed— I 
anxiously  asked:  "Have  I  angered  Mr.  Win- 
throp?" 

"  No,  dear,  he  was  not  angry,  for  I  was  watching 


1 


WOItE. 

ive  him  songs  in 
s,  his  life  became 

)  indulge  in  cant, 
poor  beggars  like 
and  refined  it  is 

)f  humanity  who 
:s  of  intellectual 
L  does  ;  as  I  hope 
Jo  think,"  I  said, 
I  to  my  heart  as  if 
3nly  changed  and 
nee. 

I  something  more 
ze  over." 
'  tears  as  I  lifted 
"  If  you  could 
Mr.  Bowen  does, 
it  in  life  illusive, 
give  you." 
ience  ?  " 

jruptly,    I  went 

beside  her,  my 

both  enjoyed — I 

fered  Mr.   Win- 

r  I  was  watching 


TUK  CHANGED  HEART. 


313 


him  ;  but  you  did  what  I  have  not  seen  any  one  do 
to  him  for  a  good  many  years.  You  touched  his 
heart ;  'and  a  little  child  shall  lead  them,' "  she 
murmured  so  softly,  I  scarce  could  catch  the  words. 

"  I  am  not  a  little  child,  Mrs.  Flaxman,"  I  re- 
monstrated. 

"  Your  are  in  some  ways,  darling.  Your  mother's 
prayers  for  her  children  have  been  answered.  Those 
God  has  abeady  taken  are  safe ;  and  you  are  one 
of  His  little  ones  whose  angel  one  day  shall  behold 
His  face  in  joy." 

"  I  am  glad  my  mother  prayed  for  us;  God  is  so 
sure  to  answer  a  mother's  prayers.  I  suppose  it  id 
because  they  are  really  in  earnest.  But  did  she 
ask  anything  special  ?  " 

"  That  you  might  be  kept  pure  from  the  world's 
pollution,  and  get  what  was  really  for  your  good. 
Her  letters  to  Mrs.  Winthrop  were  full  of  this: 
They  are  all  preserved  among  Mr.  Winthrop's 
papers,  and  some  day  he  will  give  them  to  you." 

"  She  was  a  Christian,  I  think,  like  Mr.  Bowen, 
—one  who  really  had  a  hold  on  God." 

^  I  never  knew  one  so  unspotted  from  the  world. 
I  too  shall  call  her  mother  if  I  meet  her  in  the 
Heavenly  places;  for  it  was  she  brought  me  to 
Jesus." 

"  Mrs.  Flaxman,  is  it  easy  to  come  to  Him, — to 
be  His  disciple  ?  " 


■J  r 


.;V'  ' 


314 


MEDOLINE  SELWTN'S  WORK, 


"  So  easy,  the  way-faring  man,  (hough  a  fool,  need 
not  find  it  too  difficult." 

"  I  believe  Christ  has  said  to  me  as  He  did  to 
the  Magdalene:  'Daughter,  thy  sins,  which  are 
many  are  all  forgiven  thee.'  Is  it  not  grand  to  be 
His  child  ?  There  is  nothing  in  the  world  I  want 
so  much  as  to  do  His  will." 

"  You  stepped  out  of  your  way,  Medoline,  to  help 
others,  and  they  have  done  more  in  return  than  you 
gave,"  she  said,  the  teai-s  filling  her  eyes. 

*'  I  might  not  have  found  Christ  for  years,  but 
for  Mr.  Bowen — perhaps  never,"  I  added  with  a 
shudder. 

The  dinner  bell  ended  our  little  fellowship  meet- 
ing by  the  firelight.  Mr.  Winthrop  came  and  we 
took  our  places  at  the  table,  the  dinner  going  on 
in  the  same  precise  fashion  as  if  there  were  no  such 
thing  as  glad,  or  breaking  hearts.  There  was  very 
little  conversation ;  and  dinner  ended,  Mrs.  Flax- 
man  and  I  were  left  alone  directly.  I  longed  to 
ask  what  it  was  Mr.  Winthrop  decided  I  must  not 
know ;  and  the  mere  fact  of  his  so  wishing  deter- 
red me  from  asking.  But  I  felt  convinced  it  was 
in  some  way  connected  with  Hermione  Le  Grande. 
Neither  could  I  confess  to  Mi-s.  Flaxman  that  I 
had  only  an  hour  or  two  before  heard  from  her  own 
lips  the  terrible  wrong  she  had  done  him,  or  her 
plainly  expressed  determination  to  win  him  back 
once  more. 


WORK. 

hough  a  £ool,  need 

me  as  He  did  to 

y  sina,  which  are 

it  not  grand  to  be 

tlie  world  I  want 

Medoline,to  help 
in  return  than  you 
(ler  eyes. 

■ist  for  years,  but 
'  I  added  with  a 

e  fellowship  meet- 
rop  came  and  we 

dinner  going  on 
here  were  no  such 
There  was  very 
snded,  Mrs.  Flax- 
itly.  I  longed  to 
cided  I  must  not 
so  wishing  deter- 
convinced  it  was 
nione  Le  Grande. 

Flaxman  that  I 
ard  from  her  own 
ione  him,  or  her 
to  win  him  back 


THE  CHANGED  HEART. 


315 


4 


Usually  an  excellent  sleeper,  I  lay  that  night 
finding  sleep  impossible,  and  counting  the  quarter 
hours  as  the  great  hall  clock  rang  them  out  in  the 
still  space.      I  made  the   discovery,  too,  in  the 
solemn  hush  of  the  night,   when  thought  grows 
most  active  and  intense,  that  notwithstanding  his 
coldness  and  positive  cynicism,  I  cherished  for  my 
guardian    in  the   short   time    I   had    been   with 
him  an  affection  stronger  than  I  had  ever  felt  for 
any  one  since  I  had  lost  my  two  intensely-beloved 
parents — a  loss  that  had  embittered  the  otherwise 
happy  period  of  girlhood.    I  had  never  realized 
until  that  night  how  much  he  was  to  me.    Pity, 
perhaps,  for  the  bitter  pain  that  had  so  changed 
his  whole  nature,  may  have  awakened  me  to  the 
fact;  but  still  there  was  an  inexplicable  charm 
about  him  that  even  merry-hearted,  trifling  Hu- 
bert felt,  and  forced  his  unwilling   regard.      I 
shrank  with  sudden  pain  from  the  mere  thought  of 
seeing  him  married  to  Hermione  Le  Grande ;  but 
instinctively  feeling  that  his  was  one  of  those  still, 
changeless  natures  which  never  outgrows  a  master 
passion,  and  recalling  her  beauty  and  grace,  I 
could  only  commit  him  to  the  sure  care  of  the 
God  whom  he  affected  to  believe  does  not  take 
cognizance  of  human  joys  or  griefs.    With  this 
there  came  such  a  sense  of  peace  and  security,  that 
my  mind  grew  calm ;  and  sleep,  that  soothes  every 
heartache,  brought  its  benison.  The  next  day  I  felt 


i 


316 


MEDOLINE  SELWYirs  WOUK. 


certain  both  from  Mrs.  Flaxman's  manner  and  Mr. 
Winthrop's,  that  some  disturbing  element  was  in 
the  air ;  and  finding  Mrs.  Flaxman  more  inclined 
to  solitude  than  society,  after  my  forenoon's  work 
was  ended— for  wliat  with  the  reading  Mr.  Win- 
throp  appointed,  and  the  time  appointed  by  myself 
for  painting,  the  entire  morning  until  luncheon  I 
found  quite  short  enough.  I  started  for  Mre. 
Blake's.    I  found  her  in  a  very  happy  mood. 

The  revival  was  still  progressing  in  the  Beech 
Street  church,  and  Esmerelda,  from  day  to  day, 
had  been  telling  me  how  happy  Mr.  Bowen  was, 
and  how  some  folks  liked  to  hear  him  speak  and 
pray  better  than  any  preacher  in  town.  Now  Mrs. 
Blake  gave  me  particulars  that  the  dress-loving  Es- 
meralda had  failed  to  note.  "  Dan'el  and  me  have 
been  oneasy  about  the  way  we've  lived  ever  since 
Margaret  died,"  she  said,  after  we  had  been  chatting 
a  while  about  the  meetings,  and  Mr.  Lathrop,  the 
pastor  of  Beech  Street  church,  and  its  late  on- 
goings. Dan'el  especially  felt  as  if  there  wa'n't 
any  chance  for  him  ;  but  since  Mr.  Bowen  has  got 
out  to  the  meetings,  he's  been  a  powerful  help.  It 
seemed  as  if  he  jest  knew  how  the  Lord  looked 
on  us.  Night  afore  last  I  went  to  meeting  with 
my  mind  made  up  to  stay  there  until  I  found  if 
there  was  any  mercy  for  me.  I  mind  how  I  felt 
as  I  walked  along  the  road.  The  snow  was  deep, 
and  the  night  cold,  and  everything  seemed  that 


WORK. 

i  manner  and  Mr. 
g  element  was  in 
lan  more  inclined 
y  forenoon's  work 
reading  Mr.  Win- 
pointed  by  myself 
until  luncheon  I 
started  for  Mre. 
lappy  mood. 
}ing  in  the  Beech 
from  day  to  day, 
r  Mr.  Bowen  was, 
ar  him  speak  and 
town.    Now  Mrs. 
he  dress-loving  Es- 
)an'el  and  me  have 
e  lived  ever  since 
)  had  been  chatting 
Mr.  Lathrop,  the 
and  its  late  on- 
Eis  if  there  wa'n't 
Ir.  Bowen  has  got 
powerful  help.    It 
T  the  Lord  looked 
t  to  meeting  with 
•e  until  I  found  if 
I  mind  how  I  felt 
'he  snow  was  deep, 
thing  seemed  that 


THE  CHANOED  HEART. 


317 


desolate— my !  I  wished  I'd  never  been  bom.    I 
don't  know  what  made  me,  but  I  looked  right  up 
into  the  sky  all  at  onct ;  the  stars  were  shining 
bright,  and  I  thought  if  God  could  keep  all  theni 
hanging  there  on  nothing,  year  after  year,  he  could 
keep  me  in  the  place  He  wanted  for  me,  if  I  d 
only  agree  to  let  Him;  and  right  there  I  stood 
stock  still  in  the  snow  and  said, '  Lord,  I'm  a  poor 
unlarnt  creatur',  but  I  want  you  to  keep  me  where 
you  want  me,  the  same  as  you  do  the  stars.    11 
take  the  poorest  place  in  earth  or  Heaven,  if  youU 
only  adopt  me  as  your  own.'    I  meant  what  I  said, 
and  the  Lord  just  then  and  there  sealed  the  bar- 
gain ;  and  my !  but  I  went  on  to  the  meeting  that 
happy  I  didn't  know  if  I  was  on  earth  or  up 
among  the  holy  ones,  who  are  forp  ver  praising  God. 
Dan'el  had  got  much  the  same  blessing  some  time 
ago,  and  when  we  came  home  he  took  down  the 
Bible  and  prayed.    The  preacher  tells  the  heads  of 
families  if  they  want  to  keep  their  religion  they 
must  build  an  altar  as  the  patriarchs  did.     Re- 
ligion is  the  same  now  as  then." 

Mrs.  Blake  stopped  only  for  want  of  breath. 
«  And  are  you  as  happy  now  as  you  were  that 

nig^t?"  ^.      ^,   ^ 

"  Everybit ;  and  so  is  Dan'el.  It's  something  that 
stays  with  one  ;  and  the  longer  you  have  it,  and  the 
more  you  have,  the  better  content  you  are.  The 
night  I  got  converted,  when  we  come  home  from 


1: 
T 


818 


MEtOLlNE  BELWTirs  WORK. 


meeting,  Dan'el  sot  talking  more'n  he  usually 
does ;  for  he's  a  powerful  still  man,  and,  at  last,  he 
says:  'If  Marget  had  only  lived  till  now,  she 
might  have  got  the  blessing  too ; '  and  then  he  buret 
right  out  crying.  But  he's  never  mentioned  her 
sence,  only  last  night,  in  meeting,  he  said,  if  we 
had  friendc»  in  the  other  world  that  we  weren't 
sure  were  in  glory,  we  mustn't  let  that  keep  us 
sorrowful,  but  jest  work  all  the  harder  for  them 
that  was  still  in  the  world.  I  didn't  think  Dan'el 
could  be  so  changed.  I  heard  him  try  to  sing  this 
morning;  but,  dear,  his  singing  is  something 
ter'ble.  He  has  no  more  ear  than  a  cow.  Maybe 
the  Lord  turns  it  into  good  singing — he  looks 
at  the  heart,  and  perhaps  it  sounds  better  up 
among  the  angels  than  them  grreat  singers  does 
that  gets  a  forten  for  one  night's  singing." 

"I  am  sure  it  does,"  I  said,  emphatically.  "He 
will  make  splendid  music  by-and-by,  when  he 
stands  with  the  Heavenly  chi "   " 

"  I  reckon  he'll  most  stop  then  to  hear  his  own 
voice,  for  he  does  dote  so  on  singing,  and  feels  so 
bad  that  he  can't  do  better." 

"  Singing  and  making  melody  in  your  hearts. 
You  can  do  that  now,  Mrs.  Blake,  and  with  God's 
help,  I  hope  to  be  able  to  do  the  same." 

"  What !  have  you  been  thinking  of  these  things 
too.  Miss  Selwyn  ?  " 

"  Yes.    For  a  good  while  I  have  been  struggling 


J  WORK. 

lore'n  he  usually 
[in,  and,  at  last,  he 
'ed  till  now,  she 
'  and  then  he  burst 
er  mentioned  her 
ig,  he  said,  if  we 
that  we  weren't 
let  that  keep  us 
3  harder  for  them 
idn't  think  Dan'el 
im  try  to  sing  this 
ng  is  something 
\r\  a  cow.  Maybe 
singing — he  looks 
sounds  better  up 
p'eat  singers  does 
J  singing." 
nphatically.  '*  He 
-and-by,  when  he 

a  to  hear  his  own 
iging,  and  feels  so 

ly  in  your  hearts, 
ce,  and  with  God's 
I  same." 
ing  of  these  things 

bve  been  struggling 


THE  CBANOED  HEART. 


319 


a 


with  a  burden  of  sin  that  sometimes  nearly  crushed 
me ;  but  it  is  gone  now.  Last  night  the  joy  of 
pardon  came  just  like  a  flush  of  light  into  my 
heart." 

"  Thank  the  Lord  for  that.  There's  been  some 
praying  very  earnest  for  you.  They'll  be  glad 
their  prayers  are  answered." 

"  I  can  never  repay  what  some  of  you  people  out 
here  have  done  for  me." 

"Well,  dear,  you've  done  for  us.  The  minister 
said, '  under  God  we  were  indebted  to  Mr.  Bowen 
for  this  revival,  and  there's  already  nigh  unto  fifty 
converted.  He  couldn't  have  come  to  the  meet- 
ings if  you  hadn't  clothed  him  ;  and  now,  you've 
done  still  more,  and  got  him  his  eyesight,  he's 
twice  as  useful.  'Twould  have  done  you  good  to 
see  him  in  meeting  the  first  Sunday  after  he  come 
back.  He'd  look  up  at  the  pulpit,  and  then  he'd 
look  at  the  people  ;  and  it  seemed  as  if  he  could 
hardly  sense  where  he  was — he  was  that  glad  and 
happy.  The  preacher  said,  in  the  evening,  we'd 
have  a  praise  meeting  after  the  sermon ;  and  sure 
enough  we  had ;  for  when  Mr.  Bowen  got  talking 
about  what  the  Lord  had  done  for  him,  and  what 
he  had  been  to  him  in  sorrow  and  blindness,  before 
I  knew  it,  I  was  crying  like  a  baby— me  that 
had  my  eyesight,  and  health — and  never  thanked 
the  Lord  for  them.  When  I  got  my  eyes  wiped 
I  took  a  look   around,  and   there  sot  Dan'el  a 


I  :»• 


320 


MEDOLINE  8ELWTN'a  WOIK. 


im 


blowing  his  nose,  and  mopping  his  face,  as  if  it  was 
a  sweltering  day  in  August;  and  then  when  I 
looked  further,  there  was  nothing  much  to  be  seen 
but  pocket-handkerchiefs.  That  was  the  beginning 
of  the  revival ;  and  if  you  hadn't  got  Mr.  Bowen 
out  to  meeting,  there  mightn't  have  been  any. 
So,  after  the  Lord,  I  lay  it  all  to  you." 

"  No,  Mrs.  Blake.  I  was  scarcely  equal  in  this 
matter  to  those  poor  souls  who  helped  Noah  build 
the  Ark  and  were  drowning  for  want  of  its  shelter. 
They  labored  harder  than  I ;  for  what  I  gave  was 
more  from  impulse,  and  it  was  a  pleasure." 

"  I  guess  God  don't  make  mistakes  paying  folks 
for  what  they  do,  and  maybe  it's  jest  as  well  not 
to  have  a  great  consait  of  yourself ;  but  you're  the 
first  one  I've  heard  comparing  themselves  to 
Noah's  Ark  builders." 

I  turned  the  conversation  somewhat  abruptly. 

•*  What  is  Mr.  Bowen  doing  now  ?  " 

"  He's  taken  on  in  Belcher's  Mill,  working  at 
the  books." 

"  I  suppose  they  are  getting  along  nicely  at 
Mrs.  Larkum's  now." 

"  Yes,  indeed.  She  was  complaining  after  meet* 
ing  last  night,  she'd  only  seed  you  onct  since  her 
father  got  back,  to  have  a  good  talk  with  you." 

"  Shall  we  go  there  now,  for  a  little  while  ?  " 

"  I'd  be  glad  to,  and  she'll  be  pleased  to  see  ua 
coming,  I  know." 


2V'S  WOIK. 

g  his  face,  as  if  it  was 
;;  and  then  when  I 
iiing  much  to  be  seen 
hat  was  the  beginning 
dn't  got  Mr.  Bowen 
n't  have  been  any. 
I  to  you." 

icarcely  equal  in  this 
lio  helped  Noah  build 
or  want  of  its  shelter. 
;  for  what  I  gave  was 
8  a  pleasure." 
uistakes  paying  folks 
>e  it's  jest  as  well  not 
irself ;  but  you're  the 
ring   themselves    to 

somewhat  abruptly. 
T  now  ?  " 
er's  Mill,  working  at 

ting  along  nicely  at 

mplaining  after  meet* 
I  you  onct  since  her 
3d  talk  with  you." 
)r  a  little  while  ?  " 
be  pleased  to  see  ua 


THE  CHANGED  HEABT. 


321 


Mrs.  Blake  was  very  soon  in  readiness,  we 
started  out  into  the  dull,  cold  air,  scarce  notic- 
ing that  the  wind  was  blowing  raw  and  chill  from 
the  east,  and  the  soughing  wind  betokening  a  storm. 
While  I  sat  in  Mrs.  Larkum's  tidy  room,  listening 
to  her  voice,  I  kept  contrasting  her  with  the  ele- 
gantly dressed,  beautiful  woman  whose  face  and 
gestures  I  was  studying  the  previous  day.  The 
one  nurtured  in  the  shady  places  of  life,  and 
inured  to  poverty  and  hardship  ;  the  other  priv- 
ileged with  the  best  opportunities  for  culture,  and 
high  intellectual  and  social  development ;  and  yet 
with  vision  grown  suddenly  clear,  I  could  detect 
a  refinement  of  the  soul,  and  true  womanly  honor 
in  Mrs.  Larkum  that  the  other  lacked.  I  was  glad 
to  notice  that  Mrs.  Larkum's  tears  had  ceased  to 
flow  so  profusely.  There  was  an  occasional  moist- 
ening of  the  eye  from  sheer  joy  ;  for  she  too  had 
got  her  experience  brightened  of  late.  She  was 
finding  it  easier  to  trust  in  the  Lord,  and  be  glad 
in  Him  now  that  she  had  got  a  stronger  arm 
than  her  own  to  lighten  her  burdens.  As  we 
talked  I  found  they  were  blessed  with  an  honest 
independence  of  spirit  that  praved  them  a  better 
class  than  many  who  receive  help. 

"  Father  has  begun  to  lay  by  money  to  pay  you," 
she  announced,  with  evident  pleasure. 

"He  has  already  paid  me  a  thousand-fold.    I 

never  want  any  other  recompense." 
21 


i  ^1, 


■I 

tj  -■ 

!.;r 

1, 


S22 


MEDOLINS  SELWrira  WORK. 


Hi'' 

i 


"  I  do  not  think  Le  will  be  satisfied  to  let  that 
debt  go  unpaid.  He  was  always  so  particular  to 
owe  no  man  anything.  In  our  worst  poverty  he 
would  never  let  me  go  in  debt." 

"Then  I  can  never  repay  him,"  I  said,  sorrow- 
fully, "for  I  try,  like  him,  to  be  independent;  but 
I  suppose  there  are  blessings  no  money  can  ever 

repay." 

"Why,  every  time  he  opens  his  eyes  in  the  morn- 
ing, he  says  his  first  thought  is  to  thank  the  Lord, 
and  his  next  is  a  prayer  that  you  may  get  your 
reward." 

"His  prayer  has  been  answered,"  I  murmured, 

with  tear-filled  eyes. 

"  Poor  father  was  always  a  great  man  for  prayer 
ever  since  I  can  recollect.  Sometimes  I  used  to 
doubt  if  there  was  anything  in  religion  when  I  saw 
how  poorly  his  prayers  were  answered ;  but  I  have 
since  learned  that  the  Lord  does  hear  prayer,  and 
that  He  answers  in  the  best  possible  way,  though 
when  we  are  suffering  it  seems  hard  to  wait  pa- 
tiently His  good  time." 

"But  if  it  is  hard  for  a  little  spell  on  earth, 
there's  a  long  while  to  have  our  wants  satisfied 
when  we  get  where  He  is  in  Heaven,"  Mrs.  Blake 
said,  in  her  calm,  strong  way. 

"  Dear  Miss  Selwyn,  Heaven  seemed  very  close 
to  us  in  our  meeting  last  night.  I  thought  of 
you,  and  wished  so  much  you  were  with  us." 


9  WORK. 

atisfied  to  let  that 
ya  so  particular  to 
r  worst  poverty  he 

Lm,"  I  said,  sorrow- 
I  independent;  but 

10  money  can  ever 

s  eyes  in  the  mom- 
to  thank  the  Lord, 
you  may  get  your 

3red,"  I  murmured, 

reat  man  for  prayer 
imetimes  I  used  to 
religion  when  I  saw 
Lswered ;  but  I  have 
es  hear  prayer,  and 
ossible  way,  though 
IS  hard  to  wait  pa- 

btle  spell  on  earth, 
our  wants  satisfied 
eaven,"  Mrs.  Blake 

1  seemed  very  close 
ight.  I  thought  of 
«rere  with  us." 


(!  " 


THE  CHAirOSD  BEABT. 


8Sd 


''  I  wish  your  father  would  pray  that  I  might 
have  the  opportunity  to  come.  The  difficulties  in 
the  way  just  now  seem  insuperable,  but  with  God's 
help  they  could  be  removed." 

"  Yes,  indeed.  I've  knowed  folks  that  was  a 
hurt  to  Christians  took  out  of  the  world  uncom- 
mon sudden,"  Mrs.  Blake  remarked,  with  a  very 
meaning  nod  of  her  head. 

*'  I  do  not  want  Mr.  Winthrop  to  die,"  I  said, 
with  quick  alarm.  **  If  I  had  to  choose,  I  think  I 
would  rather  die  myself." 

*'I  didn't  know  you  liked  him  that  well.  I 
reckoned  he  was  hard  to  please." 

"  I  acknowledge  that  he  is ;  but  then  a  word  of 
praise  from  him  is  worth  a  great  deal,"  I  frankly 
replied. 

"I  believe  you  are  in  the  way  to  win  his  ap- 
proval. A  pure,  unselfish  life  must  gain  the  respect 
of  every  honest  soul,  soon  or  late,"  Mis.  Larkum 
said,  with  gentle  assurance. 

There  was  no  more  said  on  the  subject.  But  the 
thought  that  Mr.  Bowen  was  praying  for  me  made 
me  feel  more  confident  that  everything  would  turn 
out  best  for  me,  and  for  those  also  in  whom  I  was 
most  interested. 


1  .:t 


ill 


1 


CHAPTER  XXni. 

THE  EKGOUNTBR  AT  ST.  MABK'S. 

DID  not  forget  through  the  week  Mrs.  Le 
Grande's  eagerness  for  Mr.  Winthrop  to 
attend  church,  and  although  not  permit- 
ting myself,  if  possible,  to  impute  false  motives  to 
others,  I  concluded  it  was  not  anxiety  for  his  spir^ 
itual  well-being  that  prompted  the. desire  on  her 
part.  However  I  resolved  to  ask  him,  and  was 
very  anxious  that- he  should  grant  my  request. 
The  day  dawned  bright  and  clear,  one  of  those 
hopeful  days  with  promise  of  the  coming  summer 
in  the  clear  shining  of  the  February  sun.  At  break- 
fast Mr.  Winthrop  spoke  of  the  rare  loveliness  of 
the  morning ;  the  blue  of  the  sky,  soft  and  tender 
as  a  mother's  eye,  with  here  and  there  a  fleecy 
cloud  such  as  painters  love  to  put  on  their  can- 
vas. Away  to  the  south,  the  sea  was  dimpling 
and  sparkling  in  tan  thousand  broken  ripples,  with 
here  and  there  a  brave  vessel  sailing  away  over  the 
cold,  heaving  waters.  ^r , 


ii 


L 


THK  ENCOUNTER  AT  ST.  MARK'S. 


326 


ni. 

7.  mark's. 

1  the  week  Mrs.  Le 
r  Mr.  Winthrop  to 
though  not  pennit- 
be  false  motives  to 
nxiety  for  his  8pii> 
the. desire  on  her 
ask  him,  and  was 
grant  my  request. 
;lear,  one  of  those 
le  coming  summer 
larysun.  Atbreak- 
e  rare  loveliness  of 
ky,  soft  and  tender 
and  there  a  fleecy 
>  put  on  their  can- 
I  sea  was  dimpling 
)mken  ripples,  with 
dling  away  over  the 


Mr.  Wintlirop  seemed  in  more  genial  mood  than 
he  had  been  for  a  week ;  and  when  he  left  the 
table  I  followed  him  to  the  door,  where  he  stood 
gazing  with  eyes  trained  to  tsike  in  intelligently 
the  charming  scene.  I  stood  silent,  entering  in  a 
very  half-hearted  manner  into  his  keen  enjoyment 
of  the  picture  painted  by  God's  own  hand,  spread 
out  before  us. 

» It  is  no  use  for  a  man  to  attempt  copying  that 
living,  throbbing  scene,  nor  yet  to  describe  it,"  he 
said,  with  an  air  of  dissatisfaction. 

"  To  copy  would  be  easy,  compared  with  creating 
it,"  I  suggested  timidly. 

"  Yes ;  but  when,  and  by  whom  done  ?  That  is 
the  question  that  maddens  one,"  he  answered  after 
a  long  pause. 

"  The  Bible  says  the  same  hand  that  was  nailed 
to  the  cross  on  Calvary  created  it.  ♦  By  whom  also 
the  worlds  were  made,' "  I  murmured. 

"  Ah,  if  we  only  had  some  evidence  of  that ;  but 
it  is  all  dark,  dark,  on  the  other  side  of  death,  and 
on  the  other  side  of  life  too.  Whence  came  we— 
whether  do  we  tend?  What  power  sent  Sirius 
and  all  that  galaxy  of  suns  marching  serenely 
through  space  ?  We,  in  our  little  planet-ship,  fall- 
ing into  line,  going  like  comets  one  day,  and  then 
vanishing ;  but  the  worlds  moving  on  unconscious 
of  our  departure,  and  yet  some  power  controls 
them  and  us.  Medoline,  to  have  my  fiiith  anchored 


■5\- 
1 
■i    '  1 


I,  ■'*! 


I 


§ 


IP' 


I 


326 


MEDOLINE  SELWYN'S  WOBB. 


as  yours  is,  to  a  beneficent,  all-povverful  God,  I 
would  be  willing  to  die  this  instant  if  I  might  be 
absorbed  into  Him,  or  be  taken  into  his  presence 
forever.  You  who  can  calmly  accept  your  religion 
as  you  do  the  atmosphere  you  inhale,  should  live 
as  far  above  earthly  passions  and  entanglements, 
as  those  light  clouds  hangfing  in  yonder  vault  me 
above  the  earth ;  nay,  rather  like  the  stars  which 
only  touch  us  by  that  law  of  the  universe  that 
holds  the  remotest  stars  together."* 

"  Have  you  tried  any  more  earnestly  to  find  the 
God  of  the  Bible  than  you  have  done  Boodh  or 
Vishnu,  or  other  man-created  deities  ?  "  I  asked. 

He  turned  to  me  in  his  keen,  incisive  way : — 
♦'  No,  Medoline,  I  cannot  say  that  I  have — not  since 
boyhood,  at  least,  when  my  mother,  who  loved 
the  God  whom  Israel  served  so  indifferently,  en- 
deavored to  train  my  rebellious  will  to  His  service." 

"You  have  lived  all  these  years  Godless?" 

"In  plain  English,  yes." 

"  Then  that  great  star,  Sinus,  you  just  spoke  of, 
and  all  the  other  suns,  and  their  systems,  as  well  as 
the  humblest  created  things,  have  fulfilled  the  pur- 
poses of  their  Maker's  will,  save  the  last  supreme 
effort  of  His  power — man,  originally  made  a  'little 
lower  than  God.'  I  wonder  that  I  honor  you  as  I 
do,  when  you  deny  the  existence  of  my  God  and 
Saviour." 

He  looked  down  at  me  with  a  gentleness  at 


WORB. 

[-powerful  God,  I 
ant  if  I  might  be 
into  his  presence 
cept  your  religion 
nhale,  should  live 
id  entanglements, 
I  yonder  vault  are 
ze  the  stars  which 
the  universe  that 
f.'* 

rnestly  to  find  tlie 
e  done  Boodh  or 
ities  ?  "  I  asked, 
n,  incisive  way : — 
<  I  have — not  since 
lOthe'r,  who  loved 
I  indifferently,  en- 
'i\\  to  His  service." 
re  Godless?" 

you  just  spoke  of, 
systems,  as  well  as 
e  fulfilled  the  pur- 
I  the  last  supreme 
ally  made  a  'little 
.t  I  honor  you  as  I 
e  of  my  God  and 

li  a  gentleness  at 


I 


THE  ENCOUNTER  AT  8T.  MARK'S.         327 
which  I  was  surprised,  and  his  next  question  did 

not  lessen  this. 

"Would  you  be  terrified  if  death,  in  some  form, 
were  suddenly  to  seize  you,  dismissing  you  from 
your  present  environments  into  the  unclothed  state, 
could  you  trust,  to  the  uttermost,  this  mighty  Beu»g 
whose  friendship  you  so  confidently  claim?" 

I  paused  before  replying.  Certainly  death  just 
then  did  not  seem  welcome.  I  loved  life  and  enjoyed 
it,  and  longed  for  its  fuller  experiences.  As  1 
studied  his  question,  there  came  a  fear  that,  since 
I  clung  with  such  desire  to  life,  I  could  not  be  fitted 
for  higher  places.  No  doubt  he  saw  the  pained, 
uncertain  look  on  my  face,  which  his  question  had 

caused.  , ,  „  j 

"  If  God  wished  for  me  to  leave  this  world,  i 
said  slowly,  »  no  doubt  he  would  give  me  the  nec- 
es  a^  grac';  and  fortitude  to  do  so  patiently ;  bu 
I  do  not  want  to  die  now,  unless  it  is  His  will.  I 
love  my  life,  and  would  like  to  serve  ^7  S^^^^ 
tion  for  a  good  many  yeare.  There  are  such  grand 
opportunities  to  be  useful  to  others. 

"That  is  a  more  healthy  type  of  piety  than  I 
would  have  given  you  credit  for.  I  am  glad  you 
Trenotanxifustoleaveus.  The  Superior  powere 
are  apt  to  humor  such  fancies  m  the  young,  and 
remove  them  from  this  distasteful  world. 

I  saw  that  a  lighter  mood  was  ^^^]^S  \V^^^ 
of  his  more  serious  one  of  a  few  minutes  before, 


828 


MEDOLINE  aELWTN'8  WOBK. 


and  I  hastened  to  make  ray  request.  "  Won't  you 
nome  to  church  with  me  this  bright  morning,  Mr. 
Winthrop?" 

He  looked  at  me  with  that  clear,  honest  gaze 
that  always  seemed  to  penetrate  my  deepest 
thoughts. 

"  Why  do  you  make  that  request  ?  You  have 
never  asked  me  before." 

A  guilty  blush  crimsoned  my  face,  and  I  mur- 
mured something  about  wanting  him  to  go  particu- 
larly that  morning,  and  then  hastily  entered  the 
house.  As  I  put  on  my  bonnet  and  cloak  for  church, 
I  made  up  my  mind  never  to  make  a  request  of  him 
again  without  being  able  to  give  a  good,  honest 
reason  for  it. 

The  bell  of  St.  Mark's  began  ringing  as  I  went 
down  the  broad  staircase.  I  paused  a  moment  at 
the  library  door,  and  then  went  on  to  the  drawing, 
room,  where  Mra.  Flaxman  usually  awaited  me.  I 
was  surprised  to  find  her  sitting  near  the  fire,  a  book 
in  her  Iiand,  and  no  preparation  made  for  church. 

"  You  must  go  alone  this  morning,  I  fear." 

"Are  you  not  well?  " 

"  No,  dear ;  I  cannot  even  plead  a  headache.  I 
might  go  deeper,  though;  for  I  have  had  a  heart- 
ache  of  late." 

"  Have  you  got  bad  news  from  Hubert  ?  " 

"  On  the  contrary,  I  have  had  better  news  than 
usual  from  him  in  his  last  few  letters;  but,  dear,  I 


s^>"»iinli  ''• 


WOBK. 

est.    "  Won't  you 
■ight  morning,  Mr. 

clear,  honest  gaze 
trate  my  deepest 

[uest?    You  have 

r  face,  and  I  mur- 
him  to  go  particu- 
tistily  entered  the 
d  cloak  for  church, 
ce  a  request  of  him 
re  a  good,  honest 

ringing  as  I  went 
ised  a  moment  at 
)n  to  the  drawing- 
ly  awaited  me.  I 
ear  the  fire,  a  book 
made  for  church, 
ling,  I  fear." 

ad  a  headache.  I 
lave  bad  a  heart* 

I  Hubert?" 
better  news  than 
tters;  but,  dear,  I 


/ 


':A  M 


THE  ENCOUNTER  AT  ST.  MARK' 8. 


329 


may  have  other  anxieties  than  merely  personal 
ones." 

"  Our  anxieties  should  send  us  to  God's  house, 
and  not  keep  us  away— don't  you  think?" 

"  Yes,  in  most  cases.  Some  day  I  may  explain 
all  this  to  you,  Medoline ;  but  not  now." 

"  Good-bye,  then,"  I  said,  kissing  the  sweet,  gen- 
tle face,  and  thinking  I  knew  what  was  keeping 
her  at  home.  As  I  passed  into  the  hall,  I  saw  Mr. 
Winthrop  coming  down  from  his  own  room  ;  but  I 
did  not  pause  to  speak,  thinking  he  was  on  his  way 
to  the  library.  My  hand  was  on  the  door,  when 
he  called  me  bar':.. 

"After  ir siting  me  to  church,  are  you  going 
without  me  ?  " 

I  turned  and  saw  that  he  was  taking  his  hat. 
"  Are  you  really  going  ?  " 
"  Yes,  really.    I  would  be  rude,  indeed,  to  slight 
your  first  invitation." 

"  Do  you  come  this  morning  merely  because  I 
invited  you?"  1  asked,  incredulously. 

"Do  you  consider  it  courteous  to  inquire  too 
minutely  into  the  motives  of  your  friends  ?  " 

I  was  silent  while  I  stood  for  a  few  seconds 
regarding  him  closely.  I  wondered  if  he  had  not 
taken  special  pains  with  his  toilet;  for  I  had  never 
seen  him  look  so  regally  handsome  before.  He  may 
have  detected  my  admiring  gaze;  for  he  flaid, 
lightly: 


I   i 


M'^> 


'Jji 


880 


MEUOLINE  SELWYWS  WOl K. 


"  What  is  wrong,  that  you  favor  me  with  such 
Bcrutinizing  glances  ?  " 

*'  There  is  nothing  wrong,  Mr.  Winthrop,  so  far 
as  my  eyes  can  penetrate.  I  trust  that,  to  clearer 
vision  than  mine  what  lies  deeper  than  human  gaze 
can  pierce,  is  equally  perfect." 

"  Is  it  your  custom,  little  one,  to  pay  your  male 
acquainttmoes  such  open  compliments?  " 

"  It  was  not  a  compliment.  I  only  spoke  the 
truth,"  I  said,  quietly,  as  wo  walked  side  by  side 
down  the  lilac-bordered  footpath,  the  way  we 
always  went  to  church  when  we  walked,  as  it  cut 
off  a-half  mile  or  more.  It  was  a  charming  walk  in 
summer ;  but  now  the  low  bushes  looked  common 
and  ungraceful,  stripped  of  their  foliage ;  but  the 
ground  was  high,  and  over  their  tops  we  could  see 
the  distant  hills  and  the  sun-kissed  sea.  And  this 
morning  as  I  tripped  lightly  by  my  guardian's  side, 
I  fancied  I  had  never  seen  this  quitt  pathway  even 
in  its  midsummer  glory  look  so  perfect. 

"  It  is  a  wise  plan  not  to  tell  your  friends  the 
truth  always.  Masculine  vanity  is  occasionally  as 
strongly  developed  as  feminine,"  he  said  after  we 
had  gone  some  time  in  silence. 

"  But  you  are  not  vain,  Mr.  Winthrop ;  I  never 
saw  any  one  so  free  from  it,"  I  said,  gravely. 

"You  are  determined  to  overwhelm  me  with 
your  flatteiy.  We  must  change  our  conversational 
topics  altogether." 


' 


S  WOl  K. 

ivor  me  with  such 

T.  Winthrop,  so  far 
ust  that,  to  clearer 
er  than  human  gaze 

e,  to  pay  your  male 
iments?" 

I  only  spoke  the 
valked  side  by  side 
path,  the  way  we 
ve  walked,  as  it  cut 
J  a  charming  walk  in 
ihes  looked  common 
eir  foliage ;  but  the 
ir  tops  we  could  see 
issed  sea.  And  this 
'  my  guardian's  side, 
quitt  pathway  even 
3  perfect. 

bU  your  friends  the 
ity  is  occasionally  as 
e,"  he  said  after  we 

Winthrop ;  I  never 
[  said,  gravely, 
overwhelm  me  with 
'Q  our  conversational 


TIIE  ENCOUNTER  AT  ST.  MARK'S. 


331 


"  First,  let  me  ask  if  flattery  is  not  half-sister  to 
falsehood  ?  " 

♦'  Probably  they  are  pretty  closely  related ;  but 
why  are  you  anxious  to  get  that  matter  settled  ?  " 

"  Because  I  do  not  want  you  to  believe  I  ever 
tell  you  what  is  not  true.  I  do  not  think  I  could, 
if  I  tried." 

"  You  reserve  that  privilege,  then,  for  your  other 

friends." 
"  Oh,  no ;  I  am  never  tempted  to  be  untruthful 

with  them." 

"  And  are  you  so  tempted  in  your  relation  with 
me? "  he  asked,  a  little  sternly. 

"Sometimes." 

"Why,  Medoline,  you  astonish  me.  Tell  me 
what  reason  you  have  for  being  so  tempted  ?  " 

"  You  make  me  afraid  of  you  ;  that  is  my  only 
reason,"  I  murmured,  trembling  already  with  a 
touch  of  my  natural  fear  of  him. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  know  that  I  stand  iu  the  rela- 
tion of  an  ogre  to  you." 

"  You  do  not,  and  I  never  meant  to  tell  you  that. 
I  am  afraid  of  you.  By  and  bye,  when  I  get  a 
little  older,  I  do  not  think  that  I  shall  be  ;  but  you 
make  me  tell  you  everytliing." 

"  If  that  is  the  case  I  am  surprised  you  have  so 
little  wrong-doing  to  confess,  i  believe  yoii  will 
ultimately  convince  me  that  a  few  of  your  sex  havo 
escaped  the  taint  of  their  evil  inheritance." 


4mu 


3)2 


MKDOLISE  HKLWYN'H  WORK. 


m 


His  words  causoil  sucli  a  thrill  of  delight  that, 
remombering  what  a  tell-talo  faco  I  had,  I  turned 
my  head  to  watch  intently  the  white  sails  of  a  ship 
far  away  to  the  left ;  but  I  presently  bethought 
myself  to  inquire  what  our  special  inheriUmco 

was. 

"  That  which  Eve  left  her  daughters— deceit." 
"  But,  Mr.  Winthrop,  we  are  alike  descendants 
of  hers;  and  the  sons  as  often  take  after  their 
mother  as  their  father." 

"  That  is  not  a  bad  hit.  It  never  occuiTed  to  me 
before.  Men  and  women,  however,  are  different ; 
whether  created  so  originally  we  do  not  know. 
But  sometimes  we  meet  a  woman  combining  the 
best  qualities  of  both  sexes;  but  so  far  as  my  expe- 
rience goes,  they  are  the  rarest  product  of  creative 
skill.  I  dare  say  there  are  men  occasionally  com- 
bining the  same  beautiful  qualities." 
*'  I  think  Mr.  Bowen  does." 
"  Have  you  ever  told  him  as  much  ?  "  Mr.  Win- 
throp asked,  with  an  odd  smile. 

"  No,  I  have  scarcely  said  anything  to  him  about 
his  goodness.  I  like  best  to  let  him  do  the  talking 
when  we  are  together." 

"  I  am  getting  curious  to  see  that  man." 
"  Oh,  Mr.  Winthrop,  if  you  would  only  come 
with  me  to  their  church.     They  are  having  won- 
derful meetings,  and  people    are    getting   con- 
verted." 


V 


) 


^iihlii, 


H  WORK. 

uill  of  delight  that, 
iico  I  liivcl,  I  turned 
white  Hails  of  a  ship 
)ro8ontly  bethought 
special  iulieritiinco 

ughters — deceit." 
;  alike  descendants 
311  take  after  their 

lever  occuiTed  to  mo 
•^ever,  are  different ; 
r  we  do  not  know, 
man  combining  the 
ut  so  far  as  my  expe- 
;  product  of  creative 
3n  occasionally  com- 
ities." 

smuch?"Mr.  Win- 

3. 

lything  to  him  about 
it  him  do  the  talking 

16  that  man." 
•u  would  only  come 
'hey  are  having  won- 
5    are    getting   con- 


TUE  ENCOUNTER  AT  8T.  MABS'S. 


833 


•'  What  church  is  it  ? " 

"  Beech  Street,  I  heard  the  minister  pray  atMw. 
Blake's  funeral,  and  once  since  at  the  Larkuma. 
I  have  longed  to  hear  him  again.  I  never  heard 
anything  like  it  in  my  life.  It  reminded  me  of  a 
beautiful  poem  or  oratorio." 

♦*  Why,  have  you  not  gone  to  hi»  church,  then, 
to  hear  him  ?  " 

"  I  feared  you  might  be  displeased." 
We  walked  on  some  distance  iu  silence.    I  stole 
a  quick  look  once  at  his  face  to  see  if  he  was  angry, 
but  he  seemed  in  one  of  his  abstracted  n  lods,  and 
I  reflected  that  by  this  time  he  had  probably  for- 
gotten  my  existence.     But  I  was  mistaken ;  for  all 
at  once  he  said  abruptly,  as  he  stood  holding  open 
the  gate  that  led  from  the  footpath  into  the  main 
street.    "•  You  have  been  a  more  obedient  girl  than 
I  expected  any  of  your  sex  could  be,  especially  one 
yrith  your  keen,  impetuous  nature.    To  reward 
your  fidelity  I  will  go  to  the  Beech  Street  church 
whenever  you  wish."    I  looked  up  at  him,  the 
grateful  tears  in  my  eyes,  but  some  way  my  feelings 
had  got  beyond  my  control,  and  I  darad  not  attempt 
to  thank  him.    We  joined  the  crowds  on  the  side- 
walk and  after  a  while  he  said : — 

"You  have  not  thanked  me,  Medoline;  don't 
you  appreciate  my  offer?  " 

I  tried  to  speak ;  but  my  lip  quivered,  and  I  re- 
mained silent. 


334  MSDOLINE  SELWYN'SWOiK. 

"You  have  tharAed  me  very  eloquently,  litde 
one ;  more  so  than  if  you  had  used  set  phrases." 

The  remainder  of  our  walk  was  completed  mostly 
in  silence.    I  scarce  knew  why,  but  my  heart  was 
as  glad  as  if  June  roses  and  song  birds  had  been 
about  us  as  we  went.    I  looked  at  some  staid 
people,-old  looking  to  me,  though  few  of  them 
were  past  fifty,-and  pitied  them  that  they  too 
were  not  young  and  glad-hearted  like  me.    As  we 
neared  the  church,  the  sunshine  and  gladness  sud- 
denly  grew  dim,  for  there,  in  all  her  perfect  love- 
Uness,  Mrs.  Le  Grande  was  approaching  St.  Mark  s 
from  the  opposite  direction.    Impulsively  I  turned 
to  Mr.  Winthrop,  hoping  he  would  not  see  her; 
for  usually  he  was  quite  oblivious  of  the  presence 
of  those  who  might  be  on  the  street  with  him.    A 
glance  assured  me  that  he  was  looking  at  her,  and 
that  her  desire  was  gratified.    He  took  no  notice, 
however,  of  my  abrupt  movement,  and  without 
change  of  expression  or  voice,  said :  "There  seems 
a  good  many  strangers  on  their  way  to  church  this 
morning.    Some  unusual  circumstance  must  have 
occurred  to  bring  out  so  many  curious  worship- 
pers." I  could  not  help  smiling  at  the  veiled  irony 
in  voice  and  words.    Fortunately  we  were  consid- 
erably noarer  the  church  than  Mrs.  Le  Grande, 
and  without  quickening  our  steps  gained  its  shelter 
before  she  overtook  us,  although  I  saw  she  moved 
more  quickly  after  she  saw  us.    St.  Mark's  vas  an 


4 


!«^i.l!l.:;ii 


■N>8  WOiK. 

very  eloquently,  little 
I  used  set  phrases." 
was  completed  mostly 
■hy,  but  my  heart  was 
1  song  birds  had  been 
ooked  at  some  staid 

though  few  of  them 
[  them  that  they  too 
irted  like  me.  As  we 
nine  and  gladness  sud- 
1  all  her  perfect  love- 
.pproaching  St.  Mark's 

Impulsively  I  turned 
e  would  not  see  her ; 
ivious  of  the  presence 
le  street  with  him.    A 
ras  looking  at  her,  and 
1.    He  took  no  notice, 
ovement,  and  without 
le,  said:  "There  seems 
heir  way  to  church  this 
lircumstance  must  have 
many  curious  worship- 
iling  at  the  veiled  irony 
inately  we  were  consid- 

than  Mrs.  Le  Grande, 
:  steps  gained  its  shelter 
hough  I  saw  she  moved 

us.    St.  Mark's  vas  an 


THE  ENGOUNfEB  AT  ST.  MARK'S. 


335 


ancient  church,  built  in  old  colonir.1  days.  One 
could  easily  fancy  themselves  in  a  country  church 
in  some  quiet  English  village,  as  tlieir  eyes  fell  on 
the  high-backed  pews,  narrow,  stained  glass-win- 
dows, and  walls  coveied  with  memorial  tablets,  and 
the  other  peculiarities  of  a  church  over  a  century 
old.  The  Winthrop  pew  was  near  the  pulpit.  A 
large  square  one,  and  commandilnp'  an  excellent 
view  of  the  congregation.  When  Mrs.  Le  Grande 
entered,  she  paused  for  a  moment,  apparently  tak- 
ing a  rapid  aurvey  of  the  church ;  when  her  eye 
fell  on  our  pew.  Without  paying  any  attention  to 
the  usher,  she  glided  to  the  nearest  vacant  seat  to 
ours.  Directly  I  was  conscious  that  very  many 
eyes  were  upon  us.  Opening  my  Bible,  I  read 
mechanically  the  words  before  me ;  but  no  more 
conscious  of  their  meaning  than  if  they  had  been 
Sanscrit.  When  the  service  began,  in  the  with- 
drawal of  attention  to  other  things,  I  took  courage 
to  look  at  Mr.  Winthrop.  He  sat  facing  Mrs.  Le 
Grande,  but  with  face  as  unruffled  us  if  he  were 
reading  his  morning  paper.  I  glanced  next  at  Mrs. 
Le  Grande.  She  sat  with  downcast  eyes,  her 
color  varying  fitfully.  She  might  have  been  taken 
for  some  beautiful  picture  of  penitence.  I  do  not 
know  if  Mr.  Winthrop  vouchsafed  her  a  single 
look,  but  from  her  expression  I  judged  that  she 
thought  he  was  watching  her  jlosely.  It  was  a 
relief  when  the  service  was  ended,  although  my 


836  MEDOLINE  SELWYITS  WORK. 

conscience  painfully  reminded  me  that  I  would 
liave  another  master  opportunity  for  listening  to 
the  preached  gospel  to  repent  of,  or  else  to  confront 
some  day;  for  I  had  been  so  nervous  I  had  not 
listened  intelUgently  to  a  single  sentence  of  the 
mrrnon* 


■ 


m.i3.- 


WOBK. 

le  that  I  would 
r  for  listening  to 
r  else  to  confront 
rvous  I  had  not 
sentence  of  the 


A>»^< 


^Mj<? 


:>  ^  ^ 


^^ 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 


'  [ 


MBS.  LE  OBANDE's  STRATAGEM. 

HHE  congi-egation  slowly  dispersed,  Mr. 
Winthiop  pausing,  as  was  his  wont,  for  the 
crowd  to  move  out.  Although  one  of  the 
busiest  men  I  ever  met,  he  never  seemed  in  a 
hurry,  ^icsides,  he  had  an  extreme  dislike  to  be 
jostled  by  a  hurrying  crowd.  When  he  saw  the 
aisles  getting  empty  he  left  the  pew.  Mrs.  La 
Grande  €ii)parently,  like  ourselves,  liked  plenty  of 
elbow-room ;  for  she  only  left  her  pew  a  few  steps 
in  advance  of  us.  Mr.  Winthrop  walked  leisurely 
towards  tlie  door.  I  dropped  behind,  not  wishing 
to  bow  to  her  in  his  presence,  and  not  capable 
either  of  the  rudeness  of  passing  her  without  a 
friendly  nod.  My  heart  beat  thickly  as  I  saw  him 
approaching  nearer  to  her,  and  a  moment  after  they 
were  side  by  side.  She  partly  turned  her  face 
toward  liim,  an  expression  of  contrition  and  ap- 
peal, making  her  beauty  well-nigh  irresistible.    I 


^  MEDOLINE  SELWYirS  WOBX. 

gazed,  fascinated;  then  after  awhile  I  turned  my 
eyes  to  Mr.  Winthrop.   I  felt  a  sudden  relief  when 
I  saw  the  same  unconcerned  expression  that  was 
habitual  to  him.    Mrs.  Le  Grande  looked  him,  for 
an  instant,  full  in  the  face,  when  a  swift  change 
came  over  her  own  countenance.  For  the  first  time, 
probably,  she  reaUzed  that  her  power  and  fascma- 
tion  had  lost  their  effect  on  him.    A  crimson  flush 
of  shame  and  anger  swept  over  cheek  and  brow, 
as  quickly  followed  by  a  deathly  pallor.   Mr.  Win- 
throp, without  noticing  her  presence,  walked  leis- 
urely  on.    She  stood  perfectly  still,  leaning  her 
hand,  as  if  for  support,  against  the  back  of  a  pew. 
I  hastened  to  her  side,  pitying  her  deeply  m  her 
disappointment.  She  gave  me  a  dazed  look,  scarce 
seeming  to  recognize  me ;  I  paused  an  instant  and 
held  out  my  hand,  but  she  did  not  seem  to  notice 
it     She  looked  so  wan  and  wretched  I  felt  I  must 
try  to  comfort  her,  though  at  the  risk  of  Mr.  Wm- 
throp's  displeasure. 

"  You  are  not  looking  well,"  I  said  compassion- 
ately.   "  Is  the  re  anything  I  can  do  for  you  ?  " 

"You  would  not  dare,  even  if  you  were  willing, 
with  that  merciless  man  so  near,"  she  said,  faintly. 
I  paid  no  attention  to  her  remark,  but  asked  if  I 
might  get  her  a  glass  of  water. 

"  Yes,  anything,  please,  to  take  away  this  deathly 
feeling."  I  drew  her  into  a  pew  and  forced  her  to 
lie  down,  crushing  thereby  a  most  elegant  toilet. 


. L 


51  WOBX. 

wrhile  I  turned  my 
sudden  relief  when 
xpression  that  was 
ide  looked  him,  for 
len  a  swift  change 
.  For  the  first  time, 
power  and  fascina- 
1.    A  crimson  flush 
;r  cheek  and  brow, 
ly  pallor.   Mr.Win- 
esence,  walked  leis- 
y  still,  leaning  her 
t  the  back  of  a  pew. 
ig  her  deeply  in  her 
a  dazed  look,  scarce 
lused  an  instant  and 
1  not  seem  to  notice 
retched  I  felt  I  must 
the  risk  of  Mr.  Win- 

"  I  said  compassion- 
jandoforyou?" 
1  if  you  were  willing, 
ar,"  she  said,  faintly, 
mark,  but  asked  if  I 

p. 

ake  away  this  deathly 

lew  and  forced  her  to 

most  elegant  toilet. 


Mm3.  La  ORANDE^a  STRATAGEM. 


339 


But  I  was  afraid  she  was  dying,  she  looked  so 
pale ;  then,  rushing  to  the  vestry,  I  found  the  sex- 
ton.   He  looked  somevviiat  startled  at  sight  of  me. 

"  Can  you  give  me  some  water  ? — there  is  a  lady 
upstairs  very  ill." 

"That  one  that's  such  a  stunner?"  he  said, 
coolly,  going  to  a  shelf  near  where  he  had  water 
and  glasses. 

*'  I  presume  it  is  the  same,"  I  said,  seizing  the 
glass,  while  wondering  at  his  indifference. 

"  You'd  best  not  get  too  frightened.  Miss  Selwyn. 
I've  heard  of  that  one  afore,  and  she  knows  what 
she's  about." 

I  hastened  back  to  my  charge,  leaving  l»im  to 
follow  at  his  leisure.  I  found  her  on  the  floor, 
apparently  unconscious.  Forgetful  of  the  dainty 
Paris  bonnet,  I  began  applying  the  water  vigor- 
ously, when  she  opened  her  eyes,  and  said : 

"That  will  do." 

I  dried  her  face,  Whisking  away  a  few  bountiful 
drops  that  were  clinging  to  her  garments.  She 
arose  directly.  Several  persons  who  had  been  late 
in  leaving  the  church  had  collected  around  us.  She 
glanced  at  them,  a  look  of  keen  disappointment 
passing  over  her  face.  With  an  amazing  return  of 
vitality,  she  passed  quickly  out  of  the  pew,  saying, 
lightly : 

"  Your  church  was  uncomfortably  hot,  and  the 
air  was  very  impure ;  it  seems  a  necessity  to  absorb 

22 


[  li 


JI0  aSDOLlNS  BKLWTN'B  WORli. 

one's  reUgion  and  a  vitiated  atmosphere  at  the  same 

time." 

She  turned  to  me  presently,  saying: 

"You  get  very  easUy  alarmed,  Miss  Selwyn. 

Are  you  always  so  impetuous  in  your  deeds  of 

"''Oh,  no,  indeed.  I  never  had  such  cause  for 
alarm  but  once  before,  and  that  was  a  poor  widow 
who  was  utterly  overcome  by  some  good  news  I 
was  bringing  her.  My  friends  usually  have  suffi- 
oient  nerve  to  endure  heavy  shocks,      I    said, 

""XrTe^flashed,  but  she  allowed  no  further  sign 
of  annoyance  to  escape  her.  When  we  reached 
the  door,  she  turned  to  me  and  said,  very  cordially : 
"I  shall  look  for  you  to-morrow,  according  to 
promise.  Forgive  me  for  having  kept  you  so  long 
from  your  escort.  I  fear  a  scolding  awaits  you. 
Mr.  Winthrop  I  used  to  find  very  impatient,  if 

kept  waiting."  '      ,       .      *        „„^ 

I  left  her  standing  on  the  church  steps,  and 
turned  my  face  homeward.  When  I  reached  the 
street  I  found  Mr.  Winthrop  had  got  some  distance 
ahead ;  but  he  was  walking  slowly,  and  I  soon  over- 

took  him.  ,      .         ... 

"  Is  it  your  custom  to  remain  chatting  with  your 
friends  after  the  sermon  ?"  he  asked,  carelessly. 

"Oh,  no;  but  a  lady  who  wt  near  us  fainted 
just  as  I  was  standing  by  her." 


mM'i  111' 


S  WORK. 

osphere  at  the  same 

jaying : 

ned,  Miss  Selwyn. 

\  in  your  deeds  of 

had  such  cause  for 
t  was  a  poor  widow 
some  good  news  I 
usually  have  suffi- 
r  shocks,"    I    said, 

owed  no  further  sign 
When  we  reached 
said,  very  cordially: 
lorrow,  according  to 
ing  kept  you  so  long 
colding  awaits  you. 
i  very  impatient,  if 

e  church  steps,  and 
When  I  reached  the 
iiad  got  some  distance 
awly,  and  I  soon  over- 

lin  chatting  with  your 
le  asked,  carelessly. 
>  sat  near  us  fainted 


UB8.  LE  GRANDE'S  STRATAGEM. 


341 


»♦  And,  of  course,  as  a  sort  of  mother-general  of 
the  sorrowing,  you  stopped  to  comfort  her  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  but  a  few  drops  of  water  sufficed.  She 
knew  all  the  time  I  was  in  danger  of  spoiling  her 
bonnet." 

"  I  am  glad  she  snubbed  you.  You  are  too  inno- 
cent too  be  matched  against  so  perfect  an  actress." 

Then  he  changed  the  conversation,  and  Mrs.  Le 
Grande  was  not  mentioned  again  that  day.  I 
noticed,  however,  that  he  partook  very  sparingly 
of  dinner ;  and,  in  the  hour  or  two  which  he  usu- 
ally spent  on  the  Sabbath  with  us  in  the  drawing- 
room,  he  was  unusually  silent.  I  went  to  the 
library  for  a  book,  leaving  him  and  Mrs.  Flaxman 
alone,  and  returned  just  in  time  to  interrupt,  a 
second  time,  a  conversation  clearly  not  intended 

for  my  ears. 

•'  Yes.  She  was  at  church  this  morning,  looking 
as  wickedly  beautiful  as  ever,"  he  was  saying,  as  if 
in  answer  to  Mrs.  Flaxman's  question. 

When  the  church  bells  began  ringing  that  even- 
ing, a  strong  desire  seized  me  to  claim  the  fulfill- 
ment of  his  promise  to  accompany  me  to  the  Beech 
Street  Church.    He  may  have  read  it  in  my  face. 

"  Are  you  going  to  take  me  out  again  to-night?  " 

"Do  you  wish  to  go?"  I  aked,  with  girlish 

eagerness. 

"  I  have  told  you  before  it  is  not  polite  to  reply 
to  a  (juestion  by  asking  another," 


■ir'T~-"T«iiirrir"i"~frii 


j;l 
ill 


342  MEDOLINE  SELWYITS  WOHIi. 

"  Then  I  would  like  very  much  indeed  to  go  to 
Mr.  Lathrop's  church  to-night,  if  you  are  willing. 
Mrs.  Flaxmaii  looked  up  from  her  book  with 

amazement. 

"  You  were  never  at  their  church  before.  What 

will  those  people  think  ?"  ,       > 

"There  must  always  be  a  firet  time,  and  proba- 
bly you  are  aware  I  am  not  in  bondage  to  other 
people's  thought  J,"  he  said,  with  calm  indifference. 
"Won't  you    come,  too,  Mre.  Flaxmau?      I 

ui^ed. 

"With  pleasure,"  was  the  smiling  response. 

"What  will  youx-  Dr.  Hill  think  if  he  hears  you 
hav  e  been  to  hear  Lathrop  ?  " 

"  I  must  endeavor  to  Uve  above  public  opmion, 
as  well  as  you."  „ 

"  I  am  afraid  such  elevation  would  chill  you.   v 

"  Don't  you  want  Mrs.  Flaxman  to  go  ?  " 

"  I  have  nothing  to  say  against  it,  if  she  has  oour- 
age  to  brave  public  opinion." 

"I  did  not  think  you  reckoned  me  such  a 

coward."  .  . 

"  That  shows  how  little  we  know  what  our  inti- 
mate friends  think  of  m;  if  there  was  a  general 
laying  bare  of  hearts,  methiuks  there  would  be 
lively  times  for  e  while." 

I  stood  thinking  his  words  ovar  very  8fenoir.Ty, 
and  theu  turning  to  him  eaid,  gravely  :— 


i'li 

I 

/  ill 


^M' 


WORIi. 

jh  indeed  to  g»)  to 
I  you  are  williug." 
rai  her  book  with 

irch  before.  What 

st  time,  and  proba- 

bondage  to  other 

1  calm  indifference. 

[re.  Flaxmau?"  I 

liling  response, 
ink  if  he  hears  you 

ove  public  opinion, 

would  chill  you." 

man  to  go  ?  " 

ist  it,  if  she  has  cour- 

ckoned  me  such  a 

know  what  our  inti- 

there  was  a  general 

iuks  there  would  be 

ovar  very  sferiorsly, 
gravely : — 


MRS.  LE  GRANDE'S  STRATAGEM.  343 

« I  would  be  willing  for  nearly  all  my  friends  to 
see  my  thoughts  respecting  them." 

"  There  would  be  some  exceptions,  then.  You 
said  nearly  all,  remember.  The  few  might  be  the 
ones  most  anxious  to  know,  and  upon  whom  the 
restriction  would  bear  most  heavily."         ^^ 

"They  might  not  care  what  I  thought,  I  said 
with  a  hot  flush ;  something  in  his  look  making  me 

tremble.  ,       ,  u    u 

» If  we  are  to  be  in  time  for  church  we  should 

leave  very  shortly,"  he  said,  looking  at  his  watch. 

"And  we  are  really  going  to  Beech  Street 

Church  this  evening? "  .  ,       .,    t 

«  Yes,  really,"  he  said,  with  that  genial  smile  I 

was  beginning  to  regard  like  a  caress. 

Mrs.  Flaxman  and  I  hastened  to  our  rooms ;  she 
nearly  as  well  pleased  as  I.    It  seemed  quite  too 
good  to  be  true  that  we  three  were  to  go  m  com- 
pany to  those  meetings  where  men  and  women 
talked  to  each  other,  and  to  God,  of  aU  the  great 
things  He  was  doing  for  them.    I  was  very  speedily 
robed  and  back  in  the  drawing-room,  where  Mr. 
Winthrop  was  stiU  sitting  gazing  mto  the  fire  with 
thatindrawn,  abstracted  expression  on  hisface  which 
was  habitual  to  it  in  repose.    I  waited  silently  near 
until  Mra.  Flaxman  should  come  in  and  interrupt 
his  reverie.    I  liked  to  watch  his  face  in  those  rare 
momenta,  and  used  to  speculate  on  what  he  might 
be  thinking,  and  wishing  my  own  thoughts  wer© 


344 


MEDOLINE  SELWTirS  WORK. 


m 


high  and  strong  enough  to  follow  his  on  their  long 
upward  flight. 

He  looked  at  me  suddenly. 

"What,  if  I  could  read  your  thoughts  now, 
Medoline?  From  your  intent  look  I  think  I  was 
the  subject  of  your  meditations."    I  smiled  calmly ; 

"  You  would  have  been  flattered,  as  you  were  this 
morning,  perhaps.  I  was  just  wishing  I  was  cap- 
able of  going  with  you  along  those  high  paths 
where,  by  your  face,  I  knew  you  were  straying." 

"  Was  that  what  you  were  thinking  about,  and 
that  only  ?  " 

My  face  crimsoned,  but  I  looked  up  bravely  into 
the  honest  eyes  watching  me. 

"Must  I  confess  even  my  thoughts  to  you,  Mr. 
Winthrop?  I  have  had  to  ask  that  question 
before?" 

"  Not  necessarily.  But  I  have  a  fancy  just  now 
to  know  what  else  you  were  thinking  of." 

I  hesitated  a  moment,  and  then  said  bravely : 
*•  I  waa  looking  at  your  face,  and  it  occurred  to  me 
that  in  some  faces  there  was  the  same  power  to 
thrill  or  e's  soul  that  there  is  in  splendid  music,  or 
poems  tnat  can  never  die." 

♦*  You  ■^6i>3  in  a  very  imaginative  and  sentimen- 
tal mood  to  trace  such  analogies.  It  is  not  wise  to 
see  so  much  in  a  common  human  face." 

"  Do  we  not  sometimes  get  glimpses  of  God  in 
that  way?"  I  asked. 


ifcJ  liii'i 


WORK. 
r  bis  on  their  long 


ir  thoughts  now, 
ook  I  think  I  was 
I  smiled  calmly ; 
d,  as  you  were  this 
trishing  I  was  cap- 
those  high  paths 
.  were  straying." 
linking  about,  and 

ed  up  bravely  into 

aghts  to  you,  Mr. 
isk  that  question 

B  a  fancy  just  now 
iking  of." 
lien  said  bravely: 
i  it  occurred  to  me 
le  same  power  to 
splendid  music,  or 

tive  and  sentimen- 
.    It  is  not  wise  to 
1  face." 
Impses  of  God  in 


JlfJ?S.  LE  GRANDE'S  STRATAGEM.         346 

Are  you  always  thinking  such  high  thoughts, 

Medoline  ? 

"Oh,  no,  indeed.  When  I  have  nothing  to 
inspire  them,  my  thoughts  are  very  common- 
place. The  brook  cannot  rise  higher  than  its 
source ;  it  needs  artificial  help  to  set.  3  mountain 

tops"  ,       «. 

He  looked  at  me  kindly  as  he  said;  "You  are 

Bot  fashioned  after  t'le  regulation  models  of  the 
woman  of  to-day."  , 

"I  think  I  have  heard  that  idea  expressed  in 
varying  phrases  a  good  many  times  since  I  came  to 
America." 

"It  does  not  displease  you?" 

"It  used  to  at  first.  Possibly  I  am  get- 
ting  used  to  it  now.  I  see  there  is  so  much 
genuine  unhappiness  in  the  world,  I  am  not  go- 
ing to  grieve    over  the   mild  criticisms  of  my 

friends." 

"A  very  philosophic  conclusion  to  come  to. 
But  does  it  not  occur  to  you  that  other  meanings 
than  unkindly  ones  may  be  taken  from  these 
chance  remarks  we  let  fall  ?  " 

"It  would  please  me  if  I  could,'*  I  said, 
looking  at  him  with  pleased  eagerness.  Mrs. 
Flaxman  entered  the  room  then,  ready  for 
church.  My  head  was  aching  severely,  ond 
a  ditressing  giddiness  occasionally    seized  mej 


'i 


:U(i 


MEDOLINE  SELWYirS  WORK. 


but  I  was  BO  eager  for  this  long  coveted  priv- 
ilege, I  kept  silent  about  my  feeUngs.  Sick- 
ness and  I  were  such  strangers  to  each  other, 
I  aoarcoly  understood  its  premonitory  warnings. 


▼ 


!i 


m.M^\  \4i 


f^.^  ■» ' 


WORK. 


ong  coveted  priv- 
y  feelings.  Sick* 
318  to  each  other, 
uitory  waruiugs. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

BEECH  STREET  WOBSHIPPERS. 

IS  WO  neared  the  Beech  Street  Church,  we 
found  a  crowd  of  persons  hurrying  in  the 
,.__    same  direction.  Mrs.  Flaxman  expressed 
her  astonishment ;  since  she  supposed  Mr.  Lathrop's 
flock  to  be  small  in  number,  and  humble  in  its 
class  of  adherents.     When  we  reached  the  door,  a 
glance  inside  revealed  the  fact  that  it  was  already 
comfortably  filled,  and  where  all  the  approaching 
throng  were  to  be  bestowed  was  a  mystery.   Daniel 
Blake  was  one  of  the  ushers.     His  face  brightened 
at  sight  of  us.    Nodding  respectfuUy  to  Mr.  Win- 
throp,  he  led  us  to  one  of  the  best  seats  in  the 
house.  I  glanced  around  at  the  large  congregation, 
and  was  impressed  by  the  solemn  hush  pervading 
the  place,  and  the  expectant  look  on  the  faces  of 
the  worshippers.    Mr.  Bowen  was  sitting  near  and 
I  wanted  Mr.  Wintbrop  to  see  t  id  know  him  ;  so  I 


S    I:     '! 


348  MhDOLlNE  SELWTITS  WOBI. 

took  out  my  pencil  and  wrote  on  the  leaf  of  my 
hymn  book  directing  his  attention  to  my  friend. 
He  looked  keenly  at  the  pale,  rapt  face,  and  then 
with  a  scarce  perceptible  smile  turned  to  me. 

The  church  kept  filling;   and  while  yet  the 
people  were  streaming  in,  the  minister  arose,  and 
after  a  brief,  but  exceedingly  solemn  invocation, 
gave  out  the  hymn.    In  an  alcove  just  behind  the 
preacher's  stand  waj  a  cabinet  organ,  and  some 
half  dozen  singers,  male  and  female  ;  but  once  the 
singing  had  got  weU  nude-  way,  organ  and  choir 
were  as  though  they  were  not ;  nearly  every  one^a 
the  house  was    singing    save    myself    and    Mr. 
Wintarop.    I  kept  sUent  the  more  keenly  to  enjoy 
the  heavy  volume  '>f  sound  which  impressed  me  aa 
more  reverent  praise  than  any  church  music  I  had 
ever  heard.    I  turned  to  Mr.  Winthrop.    He  too 
was  looking  over  the  dense  mass  of  humanity  with 
a  curious  intentness,  as  if  here  were  some  entirely 
new  experience.    When    the    hymn   was  ended 
there  was  a  moment's  hush  after  the  congregation 
had  bowed  in  reverent  act  of  worship  and  then  the 
preacher's    voice    rose    in    earnest    pleading.     I 
noticed  it  was  better  modulated    than  at  Mrs. 
Blake's  funeral,  possibly  the  efiort  to  make  him- 
self heard  by  the  scattered  groups  on  that  occasion 
caused  the  differ'^nce.     My  eyes  filled  with  tears, 
and  a  strange  v  ambling  seized  me  as  the  petitions 
grew  more  earnest;  the  prayer  was  short,  yet  so 


#.jt{l„!| 


s  worn. 

ou  the  leaf  of  my 
ntion  to  my  friend. 
rapt  face,  and  then 

turned  to  me. 
and  while  yet  the 

minister  arose,  and 
■  solemn  invocation, 
30ve  just  behind  the 
3t  organ,  and  some 
3male  ;  but  once  the 
ay,  organ  and  choir 
;  nearly  every  one  in 
3    myself   and   Mr. 
nore  keenly  to  enjoy 
bich  impressed  me  as 
•  church  music  I  had 
.  Winthrop.    He  too 
ass  of  humanity  with 
e  were  some  entirely 
B    hymn   was  ended 
fter  the  congregation 
worship  and  then  the 
jainest   pleading.     I 
ilated   than  at  Mrs. 

effort  to  make  him- 
roups  on  that  occasion 
eyes  filled  with  tears, 
3d  me  as  the  petitions 
jrer  was  short,  yet  so 


BUECS  STREET  W0&aHiPPEB8. 


349 


much  was  comprehended  in   it.    The  Scripture 
lesson  was  read  in  very  natural,  but  also  solemn 
manner,  without  any  attempt  at  rhetorical  display, 
yet  bringing  out  the  subtle  meanings  of  the  pas- 
sage in  a  pecuharly  realistic  way.    The  sermon 
was  delivered  in  much  the  same  manner ;  but  in 
every  word  and  gesture   there  seemed  a  reserve 
power  and  dignity,  while  the  thoughts  were  strong 
and  original ;  and  better  than  all,  they  made  one 
wish  to  be  purer,  more  unselfish,  in  fact  Christ-like. 
The  place  seeiied  pervaded  by  some  mysterious 
influence  never  experienced  by  me  before  in  any 
church.    The  serr^on    was    ended  at  last ;    the 
Judgment  Day  was  the  theme ;  all  the  old  horror 
that  used  haunt  me  in  childhood,  when  I  thought 
upon  this  awful  period  in  my  soul's  future,  came 
back  to  me  as  the  preacher  with  a  power  scarce 
short  of  inspiration  pictured  that  day.    I  could 
hear  Mra.  Flaxman's  subdued  weeping  while  in 
every  part  of  the  house,  tears  and  low  sobs  added 
to  the  solemnity  of  the  scene.     Mr.  Winthrop  sat 
with  folded  arms  and  set  stern  face,  apparently 
unmoved ;  but  the  intent  watchfulness  of  his  face 
as  he  followed  the  preacher  assured  me  that  the 
sermon  was  making  an  impression.     A  hymn  was 
sung  when  the  sermon  was  ended,  and  then  all 
who  wished  to  remain  to  the  after-meeting  were 
assured  of  a  welcome,  no  matter  to  what  church 
they  iHjlonged,  or  if  aliens  from  all. 


.Tmtnii  rniii«i«ii»j'«'«w"'" 


*!S 


350  UEDOLINE  BSLWtS'a  WOWi. 

I  scarce  dared  lift  my  eyes  to  Mr.  Winthroplest 
he  might  be  preparing  to  leave  ;  but  to  my  relief 
he  sat  calmly  down  along  with  nearly  the  entire 
congregation,  and  then  the  other  meeting  began 
first  with  a  number  of  prayers,  afterward  with 
speaking  by  men  and  women  all  over  the  house. 
When  Mr.  Bowen  prayed,  there  was  a  solemn  hush 
as  if  the  people  were  almost  holding  their  breath 
lest  some  word  might  be  missed.    I  could  not 
wonder  that  men's  hearts  were   melted  by  the 
power  and  tenderness  of  his  utterances.    Strange 
that  God  should  hide  such  gifts  away  for  years 
when  the  world  was  in  such  need  of  workei-s. 
Along  through  the  meeting  there  were  occasional 
snatches  of  song,  deep,  resonant  melody  that  up- 
lifted the  heart  as  it  welled  up  from  glad,  thank- 
ful souls.    Men  and  women  rose,  for  the  most  part 
with  modest  calmness,  and  told  what  God  had  done 
for  them,  and  what  they  still  expected  from  our 
Father  as  loving  as  He  is  rich.    I  listened  spell- 
bound.   Some  of  them  had  a  story  to  tell  so  like 
my  own  that  my  heart  was  thrilled  at  times.    I 
wanted  to  tell  what  God  had  done  for  me,  but  be- 
fore that  crowded  house,  and  worse  than  all,  in 
presence  of  Mr.  Winthrop,  I  found  it  impossible; 
but  just  at  the  close  the  minister,  with  a  kindly 
thoughtfulness  for  which    I  blessed   him    said: 
"  There  may  be  some  one  here  who  loves  Christ  but 
has  not  courage  to  tell  us  so.    If  they  are  willing 


C   ! 


Hll 


8  WOtfx. 

Mr.  Winthroplest 
5 ;  but  to  my  relief 
nearly  tbe  entire 
iier  meeting  began 
rs,  afterward  with 
all  over  the  house. 
3  was  a  solemn  hush 
elding  their  breath 
jsed.    I  could  not 
ere   melted  by  the 
Iterances.    Strange 
ifts  away  for  years 
need  of  workei-s. 
lere  were  occasional 
lit  melody  that  up- 
p  from  glad,  thank- 
ise,  for  the  most  part 
1  what  God  had  done 
expected  from  our 
h.    I  listened  spell- 
story  to  tell  so  like 
ihrilled  at  times.    I 
done  for  me,  but  be- 
d  worse  than  all,  in 
found  it  impossible ; 
[lister,  with  a  kindly 
blessed   him    said: 
1  who  loves  Christ  but 
If  they  are  willing 


BtmCH  SftiEMT  WORSntPPKtta. 


361 


to  witness  for  Him  we  extend  them  the  privilege 
of  doing  this  by  merely  rising  to  their  feet." 

My  heart  beat  painfully  and  my  head  swam,  but 
forgetful  of  my  guardian's  displeasure,  and  the 
concentrated  gaze  of  some  hundreds  of  eyes,  I 
stood  up.  I  heard  a  heartfelt  "  praise  God,"  from 
the  direction  of  Mr.  Bowen's  pew,  and  then  there 
was  a  gentle  rustle  in  every  part  of  the  house,  and 
scores  stood  up,  Mrs.  Flaxman  among  the  rest. 
The  meeting  closed  quietly,  and  in  the  same 
solemn  hush  the  people  departed. 

Mr.  Winthrop  stood,  waiting  for  the  crowd  to 
leave,  not  seeing  the  many  curious  glances  bent 
our  way.  Presently  the  minister  was  passing  our 
pew ;  he  paused  uncertainly,  wishing  to  speak,  I 
knew  from  the  expression  of  his  face,  but  waiting 
for  Mr.  Winthrop  first  to  make  some  sign  of 
recognition.  I  stood  near  eno'gh  to  reach  my 
hand ;  my  act  speedily  followed  by  Mrs.  Flaxman ; 
and  then  with  rare  grace  and  courtesy  Mr.  Win- 
throp extended  his  hand,  saying :  "  I  have  to  thank 
you  for  your  very  faithful  sermon.  I  did  not 
know  the  present  generation  of  preachers  dared 
talk  so  plainly  to  their  hearers." 

"  Perha  J8  you  do  not  go  in  the  way  of  hearing 
them ;  the  race  of  heroes  is  not  yet  extinct.  Not 
that  I  reckon  myself  a  hero,"  he  added,  with  an 
amused  smile  at  the  slip  of  tongue. 

"The  rack  and  flames  are  not  necessary  to 


4 
IP 

if' 


862  MEDOtlNS  8ELWTN'8  WORM. 

prove  one  a  hero  or  martyr.  I  dare  say  many 
who  do  not  choose  to  live  for  their  religion 
would  die  for  it  if  it  came  in  their  way  to  do  so." 
"Yourself  among  the  number,  1  believe,  Mr. 
Winthrop,"  the  minister  said,  with  a  penetrating 
look,  that  Mr.  Winthrop  returned  in  kind. 

« I  would  take  it  as  a  favor  if  you  would  dine  with 
us  some  day  soon,  and  give  me  an  evening  of  your 
society.  We  might  have  some  topics  in  common 
to  discuss,"  Mr.  Winthrop  said,  to  the  surprise  of 
each  of  us,  Mr.  Lathrop  included.  "Possibly 
you  do  not  make  such  engagements  on  the  Sabbath. 
Pardon  me,  I  had  forgotten  you  were  a  conscien- 
tious man,"  he  said,  «fter  a  short  pause,  seeing 
Mr.  Lathrop  hesitate. 

"  It  is  not  my  usual  custom,  but  nevertheless,  I 
accept  your  invitation  with  pleasure." 

Mr.  Bowen  was  waiting  to  speak  with  his  min- 
ister, it  may  be  hoping  to  exchange  greeting  with 
us  as  well.    I  whispered  softly  to  Mr.  Winthrop : 
«  Would  you  like  to  speak  to  Mr.  Bowen?  " 
« If  it  is  your  desire,  I  will  do  so." 
**I  would  like  you  to  speak  with  him  very 

much." 

I  made  my  way  quickly  to  Mr.  Bowen  s  side. 
He  was  standing  a  little  way  down  the  aisle  from 
us.  The  grasp  of  his  hand  and  glance  of  his  eye 
were  like  a  benediction. 

"  I  was  glad  to  see  you  here,"  he  said,  in  his 


1 


WOBt. 

I  dare  say  many 
[or  their   religion 
jir  way  to  do  so." 
er,  1  believe,  Mr. 
irith  a  penetrating 
ed  in  kind, 
ou  would  dine  with 
an  evening  of  your 
I  topics  in  common 
,  to  the  surprise  of 
jluded.    "  Possibly 
!nt3  on  the  Sabbath. 
)U  were  a  conscien- 
jhort  pause,  seeing 

but  nevertheless,  I 

lasure." 

ipeak  with  his  min- 

lange  greeting  with 

y  to  Mr.  Winthrop : 

oMr.  Bowen?" 

io  so." 

sak  with  him  very 

(  Mr.  Bowen's  side, 
down  the  aisle  from 
nd  glance  of  his  eye 

ere,"  he  said,  in  his 


BEECH  8TBEET  WOBSiJIPPEBS. 


353 


quiet  way,  which  meant  more  than  extravagant 
protestations  from  others.  "  There  was  bread  for 
ycu,  I  think." 

"Yes,  and  wine;  better  far  than  human  lips 
ever  quaffed." 

"  The  new  wine  of  our  Father's  Kingdom,"  he 
said,  softly,  with  such  a  glad  light  in  his  eyes  re- 
minding me  of  some  spiritual  illumination  the 
flesh  could  not  wholly  conceal. 

Mr.  Winthrop  soon  joined  us,  and  never  did  I 
feel  more  grateful  to  my  guardian  than  when  I 
watched  his  gracious  bearing  towards  my  friend. 
If  he  had  been  some  noted  literary  gentleman,  he 
could  not  have  been  more  genial  and  polite. 

"  My  ward  has  talked  so  much  about  you  that, 
out  of  pure  curiosity,  I  came  to  see  and  hear  you 
to-night,"  he  said,  as  they  walked  side  by  side 
towards  the  door.  A  faint  flush  passed  over  Mr. 
Bowen's  face,  but  he  made  no  reply.  I  was  much 
better  pleased  than  if  he  had  exclaimed  against 
his  own  poor  abilities,  as  some  would  have  done, 
or  rhapsodized  over  his  indebtedness  to  me.  I 
I  knew  from  the  expression  of  Mr.  Winthrop's 
face  that  he  was  pleased  with  him,  and  on  our  way 
home,  he  said :  "  You  are  like  a  magnet,  Medoline. 
You  draw  the  best  types  of  humanity  to  you  as 
the  lodestone  does  the  steel." 

"  You  like  Mr.  Bowen,  then  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know  him  well  enough  yet  for  that ; 

23 


T 


1 


If. 
A, 


864  MEDOLINE  SELWTITS  WORK, 

but  he  has  genius.  Da  Vinci  would  have  taken 
him  for  a  model  for  the  beloved  disciple  if  he  had 
lived  in  his  day.  I  never  saw  a  more  spiiitual 
face  in  any  human  being."  , 

"  He  is  like  the  disciple  whom  Jesus  loved  in 
one  thing— he  loves  the  Christ  best  of  all." 

"  Was  not  that  a  wonderful  meeting,  Mr.  Wm- 
throp?"  Mrs.  Flaxman  asked,  after  we  had 
seated  ourselves  cosily  by  the  bright  fire  in  the 

drawing-room.  ,       ^.      » 

"  I  do  not  profess  to  be  a  judge  m  such  matters. 
"  I  think  a  heathen  would  have  felt  some  before 
unknown  spiritual  influence  there  to-night,  if  he 
had  understood  our  language,"  I  exclaiuied. 

"Heathen  and  Christian  aUke  are  not  so  suscep- 
tible to  spiritual  influences  as  you,' Medoline ;  so 
in  harmony  with  the  unseen  and  unknowable  as 
you  are  getting  to  be." 

"  Religion  cannot  be  classed  with  the  unknow- 
able. God  only  leaves  us  in  uncertainty  when  we 
•wilfully  close  our  eyes  to  his  teachings." 

"You  place  no  restrictions,  then,  on  the  benevo- 
lence of  your  Creator." 

"I  shall  not  make  myself  a  different  and  nar- 
rower creed  than  the  Bible  provides." 

"Men  read  the  Bible  and  formulate  creeds  as 
opposite  as  the  poles.  The  pendulum  of  their 
belief  takes  in  not  merely  an  arc,  but  the  entire 
circle." 


X 


WORK. 

3uld  have  taken 
disciple  il  he  had 
a  more  spiiitual 

I  Jesus  loved  in 
est  of  all." 
leetiug,  Mr.  Win- 
i,  after  we    had 
bright  fire  in  the 

3  in  such  matters." 
e  felt  some  before 
ere  to-night,  if  he 
[  exclaiiued. 
(  are  not  so  suscep- 
you,' Medoline ;  so 
id  unknowable  as 

with  the  unknow- 

certainty  when  we 

achings." 

aen,  on  the  benevo- 

different  and  nar- 
vides." 

formulate  creeds  as 
pendulum  of  their 
arc,  but  the  entire 


Beech  street  worshippers.        355 

"I  think  they  are  wisest  who  leave  creeds;  I 
mean  tlie  non-essentials,  to  those  who  try  to  pene- 
trate mysteries  which,  maybe,  even  the  angels 
look  upon  as  too  sacred  for  them  to  explore,  and 
just  take  wh&t  is  necessary  to  make  us  Christ- 
Uke." 

"  My  dear  child,  that  is  taking  at  a  single  bound 
faith's  highest  peak." 

"  I  suppose  the  wayfaring  man,  of  whom  the 
Bible  speaks,  does  that.  God  may  have  different 
patents  of  nobility  from  us.  I  do  not  mean  in  the 
mere  matter  of  birth,  but  of  what,  even  to  our  dim 
vision,  is  vastly  higher— the  intellectual  dower." 

"  Medoline  tries  very  hard  to  assure  herself  that 
her  Mill  Road  favorites  are  royalties  in  exile," 
Mr.  Winthrop  said,  with  a  smile,  turning  to  Mrs. 
Flaxman. 

"I  cannot  say  if  she  goes  quite  that  far,  but  she 
certainly  thinks  that  she  has  found  among  them 
some  diamonds  of  the  first  water,  though  she  can- 
not but  acknowledge  they  lack  the  polishing 
touches  to  bring  out  more  effectually  their  sparkle 
and  brilliancy." 

"I  do  not  know  if  the  best  among  them  have 
suffered  anything  from  the  lack  of  the  human 
lapidary's  skill.  He  often,  at  the  best,  is  a  mere 
bungler,  and  while  he  makes  sure  to  bring  out  the 
brilliancy,  laps  off  other  finer  qualities  the  lack  of 
which  no  spark  or  brilliancy  can  compensate,"  I 


IV* 


i  H 


m  % 


ti! 


356 


MEDOLiNE  BELwrira  wor.K. 


replied  Uyi  5  means  convinced,  and  thinking  all 
ttie  ii  .i(,  of  Mrs.  Le  Grande  who  had  certainly 
i<;cei«'t!:j  plenty  of  polishing  touches,  but  sadly 
lack,  fl  higher  mental  and  moral  qualities. 

♦A  woiiJis  convinced  against  her  will  is  of  the 
same  opinion  still,"  Mr.  Winthrop  quoted,  although 
addressing  no  one  in  particular. 

"The  author's  real  words  are,  'A  man  convinced 
against  his  will,' "  I  retorted. 

"  In  this  case  it  is  a  woman,  and  a  very  deter< 
mined,  insistent  little  woman  she  is  too,"  he 
replied. 

I  rose,  and  standing  before  my  guardian,  said, 
"  I  am  not  such  a  little  woman,  Mr.  Winthrop,  as 
you  would  make  me  believe.  Actually  I  can  look 
over  Mrs.  Flaxraan's  head." 

"  A  perfect  giantess,  especially  in  defending  the 
character  of  the  poor  and  bereaved." 

"  If  you  had  studied  poor,  hard-working  people 
more,  and  books  less,  you  would  have  found  some 
of  the  rarest  specimens  of  patience,  and  self-forget- 
fulness  and  fortitude,  and  oh,  so  many  other  beau- 
tiful characteristics,  that  you  would  long  to  strip 
off  your  proud  ancestry  and  wealth,  and  become 
like  them.  They  find  it  so  much  easier  to  be 
Christians — they  are  not  bewildered  by  the  pride 
of  life  and  vanities  that  pall  while  they  allure,  and 
the  perplexity  of  riches,  and  other  ills  the  higher 
born  are  heir  to." 


[ 


•s  wor.K. 

id,  and  thinking  all 
flrho  had  certainly 
touches,  but  sadly 
1  qualities, 
ist  her  will  is  of  the 
op  quoted,  although 

.  • 

, '  A  man  convinced 

ti,  and  a  very  deter- 
,n  she  is  too,"  he 

my  guardian,  said, 
ti,  Mr.  Winthrop,  as 
Actually  I  can  look 

Uy  in  defending  the 
aved." 

lard-working  people 
Id  have  found  some 
jnce,  and  self-forget- 
so  many  other  beau- 
would  long  to  strip 
wealth,  and  become 
much  easier  to  be 
Idered  by  the  pride 
hile  they  allure,  and 
ther  ills  the  higher 


I 


BESCn  STREET  WORSUIPriRS, 


367 


"I  sincere'}'  hope  you  .vill  not  begin  a  new  cru- 
sade, Medoline." 

"  Why,  Mr.  Winthrop,  what  do  you  mean  ?  "  I 
asked,  surprised  at  the  sudden  turn  of  the  conver- 
sation. 

"  What  do  I  mean?  You  have  begun  it  already. 
I  only  stipulate  that  you  carry  this  crusade  no 
farther." 

"  But  I  do  not  understand  you.  How  then  can 
I  promise  to  obey  your  will  ?  " 

**The  fashion  is  rapidly  gaining  ground  for 
women  to  have  some  pet  scheme  of  reform.  A  few 
0.1  them  have  such  ambition  for  publicity  they  take 
their  pet  scheme,  and  the  platform,  and  go  trailing 
over  the  land  like  comets.  Now  I  do  not  wish  you 
to  join  this  motley  crowd,  though  your  heart  does 
burn  over  the  unacknowledged  perfections  of  the 
poor." 

"Surely,  Mr.  Winthrop,  you  do  not  insinuate 
there  is  the  remotest  possibility  of  such  a  thing, 
that  I  will  go  to  lecturing,"  I  said,  with  rising 
color. 

"  Have  you  not  already  begun  the  work  ?    But 

I  shall  be  very  glad  to  have  your  promise  that  you 

will  not  seek  a  larger  audience  to  listen  to  you 

than  your  present  one." 

"  Are  you  in  earnest?  " 

"  I  am  certainly  in  earnest  when  I  assure  you  it 


&v 


358 


MEDOLINB  SELWYHra  WORK. 


is  my  desire  that  you  will  not  take  up  lecturing, 
ordev  .lop  into  a  woman  with  a  career." 

I  looked  at  him  closely,  and  turning  away,  said, 
"Some  day  I  hope  to  get  wise  enough  to  know 
when  you  are  in  earnest  and  when  you  are  merely 
bantering  me." 

"  I  think  your  faculties  in  that  respect  are  rap- 
idly developing.  You  discovered  before  I  did  that 
it  was  merely  badinage  on  Mr.  Winthrop's  part," 
Mrs.  Flaxman  said,  genially. 

"  But,  Mr.  Winthrop,"  I  said,  turning  to  hira 
once  more,  "is  it  right  for  you  to  judge  those 
women  so  harshly  who  seize  any  honest  way  to  get 
a  hearing?  I  believe  the  majority  of  them  are  as 
much  in  earnest  about  their  work  as  you  are  in 
any  of  your  most  cherished  undertakings.  Women 
more  than  men  have  an  instinct  to  sacrifice  them- 
selves on  the  first  genuine  altar  they  meet  with. 
One  human  being,  especially,  if  he  is  apt  to  bo  cyn- 
ical, can  scarcely  judge  another  justly." 

"  Are  you  not  a  little  severe  on  me  ?  but  possibly 
you  are  correct,"  he  said,  with  perfect  good  humor. 

"I  hope  you  will  forgive  me  that  unkind 
remark,"  I  pleaded.  "I  am  afraid,  after  all,  it  is 
no  use  for  me  to  try  to  be  good  thoroughly  and 
wholly.    I  can  only  be  so  in  places." 

"  You  must  not  despair  yet.  Much  worse  per- 
sono  than  you  have  developed  into  saints  ul- 
timately, if  we  can  trust  the  calendar." 


woRi:. 


ake  up  lecturing, 
career." 

arning  away,  Buitl, 

enough  to  know 

3n  you  are  merely 

t  respect  are  rap- 
1  before  I  did  that 
Winthrop's  part," 

I,  turning  to  hira 
lU  to  judge  those 

honest  way  to  get 
ty  of  them  are  as 
ork  as  you  are  in 
jrtakings.  Women 
t  to  sacrifice  them- 
ar  they  meet  with, 
le  is  apt  to  bo  cyn- 
justly." 

n  me  ?  but  possibly 
srfect  good  humor. 

me  that  unkind 
laid,  after  all,  it  is 
od  thoroughly  and 
ices." 

Much  worse  per- 
d  into  saiats  vl' 
endar." 


, 


i 


BEECH  STREET  WORSHIPPERS. 


359 


I  smiled,  although  discomfited.  "I  wish  you 
would  try  to  be  good  with  me.  I  am  sure  I  would 
find  it  easier." 

"  Goodness  too  easily  acquired  is  not  apt  to  bo 
of  a  very  high  quality.  Better  fight  your  own 
battles  and  gain  your  victories  all  by  yourself,"  he 
said,  with  a  smile  as  he  left  us  for  his  study.  My 
hetNd  was  aching  so  severely  that  I  concluded  to 
try  the  effect  of  rest  and  sleep,  to  bring  back  my 
usual  freedom  from  pain. 


f 


l^: 


J4*V<         -  3**     .    >*^ 


^:^-^-^X  C^^yfy 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 


FBOM  THE  DEPTHS. 


|HE  next  day  was  a  wild,  drifting  storm. 
My  fust  waking  thought  in  the  early  morn- 
ing was  the  unpleasant  one  that  my  prom- 
ised visit  to  Mrs.  Le  Grande  must  be  made  during 
the  day.  When  I  raised  my  head  from  the  pillow 
the  pain  was  even  more  severe  than  on  the  pre- 
vious evening,  and  a  dizzy  faintness  seized  me 
when  I  tried  to  rise.  I  was  so  unaccustomed  to 
sickness  I  had  not  learned  the  happy  art  of  accept- 
ing patiently  its  behests;  so,  after  a  few  more  ef- 
forts, I  succeeded  in  dressing  myself.  I  went  to  the 
window  and,  on  looking  oct,  was  greatly  relieved 
to  see  huge  drifts  piled  between  us  and  the  outside 
world,  which  promised  at  least  one  day's  blockade 
unless  Thomas  and  Samuel  worked  much  harder 
than  their  wont. 

I  put  in  an  appearance  at  the  breakfast  table, 
although  the  sight  of  food  was  exceedingly  repug- 


[VI. 


HS. 


Id,  drifting  storm, 
t  in  tlie  early  mcnn- 
one  that  my  prom- 
ist  be  made  during 
sad  from  the  pillow 
e  than  on  the  pre- 
intness  seized  me 
)  unaccustomed  to 
appy  art  of  accept- 
fter  a  few  more  ef- 
self.  I  went  to  the 
'as  greatly  relieved 
us  and  the  outside 
one  day's  blockade 
rked  much  harder 

le  breakfast  table, 
jxceedingly  repug- 


FHOM  THE  DEPTHS. 


361 


nant,  and  made  a  pretence  to  eat  what  was  placed 
before  nie.  Mr.  Winthrop  very  cheerfully  an- 
nounced that  1  was  certainly  a  prisone  r  f  or  that  day 
— an  announcement  1  received  with  perfect  indiffer- 
ence— the  mere  thought  of  facing  the  outside  world 
as  I  then  felt  made  me  shudder.  Probably  he  was 
surprised  that  I  took  with  such  extreme  calmness 
my  temporary  imprisonment;  for  ho  asked  if  I  en- 
joyed being  snow-bound. 

"  I  do,  to-day,"  I  answered  unthinkingly. 

"  You  must  have  some  special  reason  for  such  a 
state  of  mind." 

I  did  not  attempt  to  reply,  and  was  glad  to  find 
that  his  suspicions  were  not  aroused.  After  we 
arose  from  the  table  he  stood  chatting  with  us 
by  the  fire  for  some  time,  while  Mrs.  Flaxman 
with  a  little  help  on  my  part  washed  the  china 
and  silver,  interjecting  a  word  now  and  then  with 
deep  content.  I  could  see  these  genial  moods  of 
my  guardian  gave  her  unbounded  satisfaction; 
sometimes  when  I  looked  in  her  gentle,  patient 
face  and  remembered  how  few  real  joys  she  had  in 
her  daily  life,  I  used  to  get  positively  angry  with 
him,  because,  as  a  rule,  he  was  so  chary  with  his 
smiles  and  gracious  words.  As  he  was  leaving  the 
room  he  turned  to  me  and  said  : — "  I  would  like 
you  to  come  to  th«  library  after  you  get  those  im- 
portant partnership  dut   's  completed." 

"Do  you  mean  oar  dm  i-washing?"  I  asked. 


i: 


\  i 


«!i 


MEDOLINE  SELWTN'S  WORK. 

"Yes,  certainly.  You  seem  to  enjoy  menial  work 
very  much." 

"It  is  woman's  work,  Mr.  Winthrop,  just  as  much 
as  painting  pictures  or  studying  German  meta- 
physics is, — a  much  more  important  work  for  me,  if 
I  marry  a  poor  man  pv.6.  become  my  own  maid  of 
all  work." 

"  Ah,  indeed !  you  think,  then,  of  becoming  one 
of  them.  I  mean  one  of  your  own  favorite  class. 
I  presume  you  have  not  yet  selected  the  happy 
pauper  whose  poverty  you  intend  to  share." 

"  Oh,  no,  I  have  not  given  the  question  of  a  hus- 
band, or  settlement  in  life  any  serious  thought  as 
yet.  I  was  only  supposing  a  case.  One  never 
knows  what  may  happen,  and  even  royalties  now 
and  then  are  reduced  to  genteel  beggary." 

"  You  are  merely  getting  accustomed  to  the  life, 
taking  time  by  the  forelock,  we  might  say,"  he 
said  with  an  amused  look,  v  Well,  since  you  are 
not  altogether  committed  to  that  way  of  living,  and 
in  case  your  dreams  are  not  realized,  we  will  con- 
tinue the  German  metaphysics  a  little  longer.  I 
got  in  a  fresh  supply  of  books  on  Saturday.  I 
would  like  you  to  come  and  look  them  over  with 
me.  You  may  see  something  you  would  like  to 
tiike  up." 

1  thanked  him  and  promised  to  join  him  shortly. 

When  we  were  alone  Mrs.  Flaxman  said,  with  a 
reflective  air,  as  she  stood  polishing  the  cream  jug; 


N'S  WORK. 

to  enjoy  menial  work 

inthrop,  just  as  much 
ying  German  meta- 
»rtant  work  for  me,  if 
ae  my  own  maid  of 

len,  of  becoming  one 
r  own  favorite  class, 
selected  the  happy 
end  to  share." 
he  question  of  a  hus- 
y  serious  thought,  as 
a  case.  One  never 
L  even  royalties  now 
;el  beggary." 
icustomed  to  the  life, 
we  might  say,"  he 
Well,  since  you  are 
lat  way  of  living,  and 
realized,  we  will  con- 
es a  little  longer.  I 
iks  on  Saturday.  I 
look  them  over  with 
g  you  would  like  to 

i  to  join  him  shortly. 
Flaxman  said,  with  a 
Ishing  the  cream  jug; 


FROM  THE  DEPTHS. 


363 


"I  never  expected  to  see  Mr.  Winthrop  so  nice  to 
a  woman  as  he  is  to  you." 

"Why,  Mrs.  Flaxman,  do  you  call  him  nice?" 
I  asked  in  amazemer.t. 

"Yes,  dear,  beautifully  so.  He  puts  on  a  brusque 
outside,  but  it  is  as  much  to  conceal  his  liking 
for  you  as  anything,  and  then  he  does  more  for 
you  than  he  would  for  any  one  else  in  the  world. 
Now,  if  I  had  tried  for  a  lifetime,  I  could  not 
have  got  him  out  to  Beech  Street  Church  and  I 
doubt  if  there  is  any  one  besides  yourself  could 
have  done  it.  Some  men,  unknown  to  themselves, 
have  strong  paternal  instincts;  and  it  only  requires 
the  right  touch  to  waken  these  instincts." 

"  But  he  is  too  young  to  be  my  father ;  and  any 
way  he  said  he  was  not  anxious  for  me  to  regard 
him  in  that  way,"  I  remonstrated. 

"  He  is  old  in  heart  if  not  in  years,  my  child. 
His  has  been  an  intense  and  also  bitter  life, — the 
last  few  years  at  least." 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  I  said  unthinkingly ; "  but  a  man 
like  Mr.  Winthrop  is  foolish  to  let  a  woman  like 
Mrs.  Le  Gi-ande  embitter  his  life." 

"Medoline,  where  did  you  hear  of  Mrs.  Le 
Grande?"  she  asked  sharply. 

My  face  crimsoned  guiltily,  but  I  remained 
silent. 

"Was  it  Mrs.  Blake,  or  any  of  the  Mill  Road 
people  told  you?" 


.11 II 


364 


MEDOLINE  SELIVYN'S  WVnii. 


"No, indeed.  I  have  told  you  before  they  never 
gossip  about  him." 

"  Was  it  any  of  our  own  friends,  the  Carters,  or 
Flemings  ?  I  know  they  are  vulgarly  inclined,  for 
all  they  are  in  good  society." 

"It  was  none  of  these,  nor  any  one  you  have 
seen  for  a  good  many  years,  that  told  me  what  I 
know." 

"  You  must  tell  me,  Medoline,  who  told  you.  It 
is  the  first  time  I  have  tried  to  force  your  con- 
fidence." 

"  But  I  have  promised  not  to  tell  you." 

"  Had  you  met  Mrs.  Le  Grande  before  you  were 
with  her  yesterday  when  she  fainted  in  church?" 

My  answer  was  a  sob. 

"  Where  had  you  met  her,  Medoline  ?  " 

"  You  will  tell  Mr.  Winthrop,  and  he  will  never 
forgive  me." 

"  Then  you  have  really  been  with  her  ?  " 

"  Yes,  she  sent  me  a  letter  requesting  me  to 
visit  her." 

"  And  you  went.    When  was  this  ?  " 

"  A  week  ago.  But  I  did  not  dream  she  was  a 
rich  woman  or  had  ever  known  Mr.  Winthrop.  I 
thought  it  WHS  some  one  poor  and  in  distress.  I  did 
not  know  it  was  a  person  suffering  from  heartbreak." 

"  Heart-break  ! "  she  exclaimed,  with  such  a  flash 
of  scorn,  that  the  surprise  her  words  created  effect- 
ually' r^ried  my  tears. 


m 


's  woi:k. 

u  before  they  never 

nds,  the  Carters,  or 
ilgarly  inclined,  for 

any  one  you  have 
;hat  told  me  what  I 

e,  who  told  you.    It 
to  force  your  con- 

)  tell  you." 

ide  before  you  were 

iainted  in  church?" 

[edoKne?" 

p,  and  he  will  never 

with  her?" 
:  requesting  me  to 

,8  this?" 

ot  dream  she  was  a 
[1  Mr.  Winthrop.  I 
nid  in  distress.  I  did 
ig  from  heartbreak." 
ed,  with  such  a  flash 
vords  created  effect- 


FROM  THE  DEPTHS. 


365 


"She  has  no  heart  to  get  broken,  except  the  or- 
gan that  propels  her  blood— even  a  cat  has  the 

same." 

"She  is  very  beautiful,  and  is  also  extremely 
anxious  to  make  reparation  to  Mr.  Winthrop  for 
the  wrong  she  has  done  him." 

"  She  is  as  heartless  and  selfish  as  she  is  beauti- 
ful; and  if  she  were  to  be  allowed  the  privilege  of 
making  reparation,  the  second  offence  would  be 
worse  than  the  original  one.  But  we  will  not  men- 
tion her  name  again.  Leave  her  alone  as  she  de- 
serves." 

"  She  compelled  me  to  give  my  promise  to  go 
and  see  her  again.    She  looks  for  me  to-day." 

"  Medoline,  have  you  no  sense  of  propriety  ? 
Mr.  Winthrop's  ward  visiting,  unknown  to  him,  the 
woman  who  wrought  him  such  grievous  wrong? 
Can  you  expect  him  to  forgive  such  an  act,  espe- 
cially when  he  was  getting  to  have  such  confidence 
in  your  honesty  and  purity?" 

"  You  will  tell  Mr.  Winthrop  ?  " 

« I  must  obey  him.  It  was  his  Lope  you  would 
never  hear  the  disgraceful  story.  His  special  com- 
mand if  you  did  that  I  must  tell  him  directly.  I 
promised  to  do  so  and  I  must  fulfill  that  promise, 
but  at  a  cost,  Medoline,  that  I  dare  not  think  of." 

"  Will  you  go  directly  then  ?  Maybe  this  is  my 
last  day  at  Oaklands.  I  shall  not  stay  here  to  suf- 
fer his  contempt  and  displeasure."  I  said  wearily, 


366 


MEtOLtNS  aSLWYlPB  WOPK. 


I 


my  bodily  misery  dulling  to  some  extent  the  men- 
tal pain ;  for  I  was  growing  sick  rapidly.  With 
difficulty  I  gained  the  shelter  of  my  own  room, 
my  one  haven  of  refuge  in  the  wide  world.  Crouch- 
ing by  the  window  I  watched  the  mad,  hurrying 
storm  outside,  and  wondering  vaguely  if  nature 
suffered  in  this  elemental  warfare  as  we  did  in  our 
tempests  of  the  soul  when  the  very  foundations  of 
hope  and  happiness  were  getting  swept  from  our 
feet.  In  imagination  I  re-lived  my  past  months  at 
Oaklands,  my  intercourse  with  Mr.  Winthrop,  his 
gradually  increasing  esteem,  the  friendship,  nay 
rather  the  comradeship  that  was  being  cemented 
between  us  over  literature  and  art,  the  help  he 
was  giving  me  in  these,  and  the  rare  life  that  ima- 
gination was  beginning  to  picture  ■  that  we  might 
enjoy  through  coming  years  together. 

I  realized  then,  as  never  before,  how  happy  I 
had  been  in  my  new  home ;  and  with  a  clearness 
that,  gave  me  pain  came  the  consciousness  how 
much  my  guardian  had  become  to  me.  After  to^ay 
I  might  never  again  call,  Oii.dands  my  home.  If  I 
had  gone  at  once  and  confessed  to  Mr.  Winthrop 
on  ray  return  that  day  from  Linden  Lane  that  I 
had  met  Mrs.  Le  Grande  he  could  not  have  been 
rraaonably  angry  with  me;  but  I  had  concealed 
from  him  the  fact,  and  had  also  promised  her  an- 
other inti^rview,  and  now  with  vision  grown  sud- 
denly clear  I  could  realize  how  he  would  receive 


m 


8  WOPK. 

tue  extent  the  men* 
ick  rapidly.  With 
of  my  own  room, 
ide  world.  Crouch- 
the  mad,  hurrying 
vaguely  if  nature 
ire  as  we  did  in  our 
very  foundations  of 
ng  swept  from  our 
I  my  past  months  at 
.  Mr.  Winthrop,  his 
the  friendship,  nay 
^as  heing  cemented 
ad  art,  the  help  he 
le  rare  life  that  ima- 
turethat  we  might 
igether. 

jefore,  how  happy  I 
nd  with  a  clearness 
consciousness  how 
tome.  After to^ay 
mds  my  home.  If  I 
led  to  Mr.  Winthrop 
Linden  Lane  that  I 
}uld  not  have  been 
lut  I  had  concealed 
Iso  promised  her  an- 
h  vision  grown  sud- 
w  he  would  receive 


r 


FROM  THE  DEPTHS. 


867 


my  unwilling  confession,  after  a  whole  week's 
silence.  With  aching  head  and  heart  I  wondered 
at  the  cruelty  of  circumstance  that  forced  the  inno- 
cent to  suffer  with  tlie  guilty. 

With  my  intense  nature,  so  susceptible  either  to 
pleasure  or  pain,  those  lonely  hours  in  my  own 
room,  that  bitter  day,  left  their  trace  on  heart  and 
body  for  long  weary  weeks.  When  at  last  Mrs. 
Flaxman  came  to  me,  her  own  face  sad  and  troubled, 
I  no  longer  felt  the  cold  in  my  fireless  room ;  for 
the  blood  now  was  rushing  feverishly  in  my  veins, 
and  my  head  throbbing  with  intense  pain.  I  lis- 
tened to  what  she  had  to  say  in  a  dazed,  half-con- 
scious way.  I  heard  her  say  something  about  Mr. 
Winthrop's  displeasure,  but  I  was  too  sick  to  care 
veiy  much  for  anything,  just  then.  I  startled  her 
at  last  by  saying : — *'  I  do  not  understand  what  you 
are  saying.  Pleasn  wait  and  tell  me  some  other 
time." 

"  Sure,  you  have  not  been  sitting  all  this  time 
here  in  the  cold.  You  should  have  gone  where  it 
was  warm,  or  rung  for  Esmerelda  to  kindle  your 
fire." 

I  rose  and  tried  to  walk  across  the  rooia ;  but 
sUggered  and  would  have  fallen  only  that  she  sup- 
ported me. 

"  Are  you  sick,  Medoline  ?  "  She  asked,  in  great 

alarm. 

•'  My  head  aches  and  I  am  very  hot,"  I  said  un- 


368 


UEDOLINE  SELWTirS  WOPK. 


certainly.    I  was  unused  to  sickness  and  scarcely 
knew  how  much  pain  was  necessary  before  I  could 
truthfully  say  I  was  ill.    I  remember  thinking  the 
matter  over  with  great  seriousness,  and  wishing 
Mrs.  Blake,  with  her  superior  knowledge  of  bodily 
ailments,  was  there  to  decide,  until  at  last  I  got 
tired  and  tried  to  forget  all  about  it.    Then  every- 
thing began  to  grow  uncertain.    I  knew  that  I 
was  lying  in  bed  and  the  fire  burning  brightly  in 
the  grate,  while  persons  were  passing  to  and  fro; 
but  they  did  not  look  familiar.    I  kept  wishing  so 
much  that  Mrs.  Blake  would  come  with  her  strong, 
cheery  presence  to  comfort  me,  and  if  she  would 
give  me  a  drink  of  pure  cold  water  from  one  of  her 
own  clean  glasses  I  should  be  content  to  turn  my 
face  to  the  wall  and  sleep.    But  after  a  time  my 
one  despairing  thought  was  Mr.  Winthrop's  dis- 
pleasure,  while  hour  after  hour,  and  day  after  day, 
I  tried  to  tell  him  that  I  did  not  mean  to  deceive 
him,  and  wanted  to  be  just  to  every  one  alike,  but 
he  was  never  convinced  and  used  to  come  and  go 
with  the  same  stern,  hard  look  on  his  face  that 
nearly  broke  my  heart.    When  just  at  the  point  of 
utter  despair,  when  I  thought  all  had  turned  against 
me,  Mr.  Bowen  or  Mrs.  Blake  used  to  step  up  and 
tell  me  they  understood  it  all  and  believed  in  me, 
then  for  awhile  I  would  shut  my  eyes  and  rest,  only 
to  open  them  again  to  plead  once  more  for  forgive- 
ness; but  to  plead  vainly.    Then  I  would  be  on 


\ 


I 


<8  WOPK. 

ikness  and  scarcely 
ssary  before  I  could 
lember  thinking  the 
isness,  and  wishing 
inowledge  of  bodily 
,  until  at  last  I  got 
out  it.    Then  every- 
in.     I  knew  that  I 
burning  brightly  in 
passing  to  and  fro; 
,    I  kept  wishing  so 
ome  with  her  strong, 
ne,  and  if  she  would 
ater  from  one  of  her 
content  to  turn  my 
lut  after  a  time  my 
Mr.  Winthrop's  dis- 
r,  and  day  after  day, 
lot  mean  to  deceive 
every  one  alike,  but 
ised  to  come  and  go 
)ok  on  his  face  that 
n  just  at  the  point  of 
ill  had  turned  against 
!  used  to  step  up  and 
1  and  believed  in  me, 
ny  eyes  and  rest,  only 
Dnce  more  for  forgive- 
Then  I  would  be  on 


FBOM  THE  DEPTHS. 


369 


the  point  of  leaving  Oaklands  forever,  and  bidding 
good-bye  to  every  one  in  the  household  save  Mr. 
Winthrop.  He  always  turned  away  Sternly  and 
refused  me  his  hand.  I  was  not  conscious  when  it 
was  day  or  night.  It  was  all  one  perpetual  twi- 
light. I  would  ask  if  the  sun  would  never  rise 
again,  or  the  moon  come  back  with  her  soft  shin- 
ing ;  but  no  one  heeded  my  questions.  I  resolved 
to  be  so  patient  after  this  in  answering  people's 
questions  when  their  heads  were  full  of  pain,  since 
I  knew  how  sad  it  was  to  go  on  day  after  day  with 
these  puzzling,  wearying  questions  haunting  one. 
Then  there  came  a  long,  quiet  time  of  utter  forget- 
fulness  when  I  passed  down  into  the  very  valley 
of  the  shadow  that  Death  casts  over  the  nearly  dis- 
embodied spirit,  and  here  I  had  rest. 

When  at  last  I  opened  my  eyes  to  see  the  old, 
accustomed  place  and  faces,  I  w&s  like  a  little  child. 

I  lay  quiet  for  some  time  wondering  if  it  were 
possible  for  me  to  lift  my  band.  It  was  night,  for 
the  lamp  was  burning,  and  some  one  was  sitting 
just  within  the  shadow  the  lamp  shade  cast.  I 
hoped  it  was  Mrs  Blake,  and  lay  wondering  how  I 
could  find  out.  I  tried  to  lift  my  head,  but  found 
the  effort  so  wearying  I  went  back  into  brief  un- 
consciousness. Presently  my  eyes  opened  again ; 
but  this  time  there  was  a  face  bending  over  my  bed, 
so  that  I  had  no  need  to  muster  my  feeble  forces 

to  attract  their  attention.     I  smiled  up  weakly  into 

24 


1* 

/I 


370 


MEDOLINE  SELWYN'S  WOr.K. 


the  face  that  in  the  dim  light  I  failed  to  recognize. 
"  Do  you  know  me,  dearie  ?"     I  was  sure  it  was 
Mrs.  Blake's  voice  sounding  strong  and  real. 
"Is  it  Mrs.  Blake?"  I  asked  uncertainly. 
"  Yes,  dearie,  it  jest  is."     Tlien  I  shut  my  eyes, 
so  tired  I  could  not  even  think;  but  1  heard  a 
rustling  sound,  and  a  voice,  that  sounded  a  long 
way  off,    murmur,   "Thank    God!"     The   voice 
sounded  familiar,  but  I  could  not  recall  whoso  it 
was.     I  tried  to  do  so,  but  the  effort  wearied  me. 
A  spoon  was  put  to  my  lips,  the  milk  that  was 
given  to  me  brought  back  the  long  ago  times — so 
long  ago,  I  wondered  if  now  I  was  an  old  woman ; 
but  after  brief  reflection  I  knew  this  could  not  be, 
since  Mrs.  Blake  was  still  alive,  and  not  much  older 
in  appearance  than  when  I  saw  her- last.    To  make 
sure  of  the  matter  I  determined  to  look  at  her 
again,  and  opened  my  eyes  to  settle  my  perplexity ; 
but  this  time  the  face  looking  down  at  me  was  not 
Mrs.  Blake's.    I  tried  to  raise  my  head  on  the 
pillow  the  better  to  see  who  it  was,  when  the  per- 
son stooped  near  to  me  and  said :  "  You  are  coming 
back  to  us,  Medoline."    I  wondered  who  was  call- 
ing me  by  that  name.    No  one  save  Mr.  Winthrop 
and  Mrs.  Flaxman  were  in  the  habit  now  of  doing 
so ;  but  my  strength  was  so  rapidly  waning  I  could 
neither  see  nor  hear  very  distinctly.    After  a  few 
seconds,  once  more  rallying  all  my  forces,  I  looked 
up  again.  ^^ 


'8  wonK. 

failed  to  recognize. 
'     I  was  sure  it  was 
rong  and  real, 
uncertainly, 
lien  I  shut  my  eyes, 
ink;,  but  1  heard  a 
hat  sounded  a  long 
God!"     The   voice 
not  recall  whoso  it 
B  effort  wearied  ine. 
the  milk  that  was 
long  ago  times — so 
was  an  old  woman ; 
w  this  could  not  be, 
,  and  not  much  older 
'her- last.     To  make 
ined  to  look  at  her 
;ettle  my  perplexity ; 
down  at  me  was  not 
se  my  bead  on  the 
t  was,  when  the  per- 
il:  "You are  coming 
adered  who  was  call- 
B  save  Mr.  Winthrop 
e  habit  now  of  doing 
,pidly  waning  I  could 
tinctly.    After  a  few 
LI  my  forces,  I  looked 


FROM  TUE  DEPTUS. 


371 


L 


"Who  is  it?"  I  whispered. 

"Do  you  not  know  me,  Medoline?  " 

"  Is  it," — I  paused,  trembling  so  with  excitement 
I  could  scarce  articulate,—"  is  it  Mr.  Winthrop  ?  " 

"  Yes,  little  one." 

The  old  caressing  name  ho  had  given  me  long 
ago,  surely  he  must  have  forgiven  me  or  he  would 
not  use  it  now.  But  I  was  not  satisfied  without 
the  assurance  that  we  were  to  take  up  again  the 
kindly  relations  of  the  past ;  and  so  with  an  effort 
that  seemed  likely  to  sweep  me  back  dangerously 
near  that  shore  I  had  so  lately  been  skirting,  I 
looked  up  and  said :  "  I  am  sorry  I  displeased  you ; 
won't  you  forgive  me? "  My  voice  was  so  weak  I 
was  afraid  he  could  not  catch  the  words  I  uttered ; 
but  he  folded  my  thin,  shadowy  hand  in  his,  which 
seemod  so  strong  and  muscular  I  fancied  it  could 
hold  me  back  from  the  gates  of  Death  if  its  owner 
so  willed,  and  after  a  few  seconds'  silence,  he  said, 
gently:  "You  must  never  think  of  that  again, 
Medoline.  Just  rest,  and  come  back  to  us.  We 
all  want  you  more  than  we  can  tell..'' 

"  Then  I  am  forgiven,  and  you  will  trust  me  once 
more,"  I  pleaded  softly. 

"Yes,  Medoline,  as  I  expect  to  be  trusted  by 
you,"  he  said,  with  a  solemnity  that  made  me 
tremble.  My  eyes  closed  in  utter  weariness  and 
then  I  seemed  to  be  floating,  floating  over  summer 
seas,  and  under  such  peaceful,  blessed  skies,  I 


If 


if 


t    1 


1 

ll 


If' 


1 


372 


MEDOLINE  SELWYN'S  WORK. 


began  to  wonder  if  I  was  not  passing  out  to  the 
quiet  coast  bordering  on  the  Heavenly  places. 

Of  one  thing  only  was  I  certain — the  hand  that 
still  held  mine,  which  kept  me  from  drifting  quite 
away  from  the  shores  of  time.  I  tried  to  cling  to 
it,  but  my  hand  could  only  lie  nerveless  within  its 
firm  grasp.  I  believed  if  once  tlie  hold  was  loosened 
I  should  slip  quietly  out  into  the  broader  sea  just 
beyond  me.  I  wondered  which  was  best— life  or 
death,— then  far  down  in  my  soul  I  seemed  to  grow 
strong,  and  could  calmly  say,  "  as  God  wills ; "  and 
for  a  long  time  I  seemed  to  be  passively  awaiting 
His  will.  It  was  very  strange,  the  thoughts  I  had, 
lying  there  so  far  within  the  border  land ;  as  if  the 
faculties  of  mind  and  soul  had  nearly  slipped  the 
fleshly  leash,  and  independently  of  their  environ- 
ment, boldly  held  counsel,  and  speculated  on  the 
possibilities  of  their  immediate  future. 

But  gradually  the  wheels  of  life  began  to  turn 
more  strongly.  When  next  I  opened  my  eyes  the 
daylight  was  softly  penetrating  the  closely  drawn 
curtains.  Mrs.Flaxraan  was  standing  near,  looking 
worn  and  pale ;  but  Mrs.  Blake  was  also  there,  and 
loomed  up  before  me,  strong  as  ever— a  look  into 
her  kindly  face  was  like  a  tonic.  When  she  saw 
me  watching  her  she  turned  around,  and  very  softly 
whispered  to  Mrs.  Flaxman,  who,  casting  a  startled, 
anxious  glance  towards  me,  went  silently  from  the 
room, 


WORK 

issing  out  to  tho 
veuly  places, 
n — the  hand  that 
om  drifting  quite 
;  tried  to  cling  to 
srveless  within  its 
hold  was  loosened 
3  broader  sea  just 
was  best — life  or 
.  I  seemed  to  grow 
}  God  wills ; "  and 
jassively  awaiting 
:ie  thoughts  I  had, 
ler  land ;  as  if  tho 
nearly  slipped  the 
of  their  environ- 
ipeculated  on  the 
uture. 

life  began  to  turn 
)ened  my  eyes  the 
the  closely  drawn 
ding  near,  looking 
vfas  also  there,  and 
ever — a  look  into 
.  When  she  saw 
nd,  and  very  softly 
,  casting  a  startled, 
t  silently  from  the 


FROM  THE  DEPTHS. 


879 


Mrs.  Blake,  without  speaking,  gave  me  some 
nourishment.  After  I  had  taken  it  I  began  to 
feel  more  like  a  living  creature. 

"  Mrs.  Blake,"  I  whispered.  She  stooped  down 
to  listen.  "  Tell  me,  please,  how  long  I  have  lain 
here." 

"A  good  long  bit,  but  the  doctor  says  we  mustn't 
talk  to  you,  or  let  you  talk." 

"I  am  so  tired  thinking ;  won't  you  sing  to  me?" 

"My  voice  ain't  no  great  shakes ;  but  I'll  do  the 
very  best  I  can  for  you,  dearie." 

She  went  to  the  other  side  of  the  room,  and  seat- 
ing herself  in  a  comfortable  easy-chair  began  in  a 
low,  crooning  voice  to  sing  one  of  Doctor  Watts' 
cradle  melodies. 

Probably  she  had  learned  it  in  childhood  from 
her  own  mother,  and  in  turn  sung  it  again  to  the 
infant  Daniel.  It  soothed  me  better  than  Beetho- 
ven or  Wagner's  grandest  compositions  could  have 
done.  I  lay  with  closed  eyes,  seeing  in  imagina- 
tion the  great  army  of  mothers  who  had  lulled  their 
babies  to  sleep  with  those  same  words,  and  the 
angels  hovering  near  with  folded  wings  guarding 
the  sleeping  nestlings. 

The  voice  grew  indistinct,  and  presently  sleep, 
more  deep  and  refreshing  than  I  had  known  for 
weeks,  enfolded  me.  The  doctor  entered  the  room 
at  last  to  put  a  stop  to  the  music,  and  found  Mrs. 
Blake  tired  and  perspiring,  but  singing  steadily  on. 


374 


MEDOLINE  SELWTN'S  WORK. 


Without  missing  a  note  she  pointed  to  the  bed 
iind  thfl  peaceful  sleeper.  He  smiled  grimly  and 
withdrew;  no  doubt  realizing  there  were  other 
soporifics  applied  by  nature  than  those  weighed 
and  measured  by  the  apothecary. 


,'  I 


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WORK. 

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^ 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 


CONVALESCENCE. 

IHEN  the  curtains  were  withdrawn  from  my 
windows,  and  I  was  strong  enough  to  look 

once  more  on  the  outer  world,  I  found  the 

late  April  sun  was  bringing  back  life  and  beauty  to 
the  trees  and  shrubbery  around  Oaklands.    Thomas 
and  Samuel  were  well  on  with  their  gardening, 
and  already  a  few  brave  blossoms  were  smiling  up 
at  us  from  mother  earth.    I  felt  like  one  who  had 
been  visiting  dim,  mysterious  shores,  and  had  got 
safely  back  from  those  outlying  regions.    I  used  to 
lie  in  those  quiet  hours  of  convalescence,  trying  to 
decide  what  was  real  and  what  fanciful  in  the  ex- 
periences of  the  last  few  weeks.    When  Mrs.  Flax- 
man  considered  me  strong  enough  to  listen  to  con- 
secutive  conversation  she  gave  me  the  particulars 
of  my  sudden  attack  of  illness  and  the  incidents 
connected  therewith. 

I  was  one  of  the  first  stricken  with  a  virulent 


876 


MEDOLINE  SELWTN'8  WORK. 


type  of  typhoid  fever  which,  in  very  many  cases, 
had  proved  fatal. 

A  want  of  sanitary  precaution  in  Cavendish  had 
caused  the  outbreak  which  caused,  in  loss  of  life, 
and  incidental  expenses,  far  more  than  the  most 
approved  drainage  would  do  in  a  generation.  I 
was  amazed  when  the  names  of  my  fellow  sufferers 
were  mentioned;  among  them  Mrs.  Le  Grande, 
whose  recovery  was  still  considered  by  the  doctors 
exceedingly  uncertain. 

Mr.  Winthrop,  she  informed  me,  had  not  sufiB- 
cient  confidence  in  the  local  doctors  to  trust  me  en- 
tirely to  their  care,  and  at  the  height  of  the  fever 
had  sent  for  one  from  New  York.  "  But  for  that," 
she  continued,  "  I  believe  you  would  be  in  your 
grave  to-day." 

"  I  did  not  think  Mr.  Winthrop  would  care  very 
much.    He  is  so  angry  with  me." 

"  He  very  soon  got  over  his  anger  when  he  found 
how  sick  you  were.  At  first  he  was  nearly  beside 
himself;  for  he  thought  it  was  the  message  I  had 
taken  to  you  from  him  that  day  that  caused  your 
illness.  He  would  come  to  your  bedside,  and  lis- 
ten to  your  appeals  for  forgiveness  with  such  an 
expression  of  pain  on  his  face.  Sometimes  he  would 
take  your  hands  in  his,  assuring  you  of  his  forgive- 
ness ;  but  you  never  understood  him.  I  was  afraid 
you  would  die  without  ever  knowing." 

"  But  I  would  have  known  all  about  it,  once  my 


8  WORK. 

I  very  many  cases, 

I  in  Cavendish  had 
ed,  in  loss  of  life, 
ore  than  the  most 
1  a  generation.  I 
my  fellow  sufferers 
Mrs.  Le  Grande, 
)red  by  the  doctors 

me,  had  not  suffi- 
x)rs  to  trust  me  en- 
leight  of  the  fever 
:.  "  But  for  that," 
would  be  in  your 

>p  would  care  very 

ger  when  he  found 

was  nearly  beside 
the  message  I  had 

that  caused  your 
IT  bedside,  and  lis- 
aess  with  such  an 
ometimes  he  would 

you  of  his  forgive- 
him.  I  was  afraid 
iwing." 

about  it,  once  my 


C0NVALB8CENCS. 


am 


spirit  had  got  freed  from  the  body ;  I  cannot  de- 
scribe what  glimpses  I  have  had  of  other  worlds 
than  ours.  It  seemed  so  restful  there ;  so  much 
better  than  we  have  words  to  describe." 

»♦  We  are  so  glad  you  did  not  leave  us  for  that 
place,  even  though  it  is  so  beautiful." 

"  When  this  life  is  done,  and  its  work  all  finished, 
I  may  slip  away  there.  I  think  my  soul  saw  its 
home  and  can  never  again  be  so  fully  content  with 
earth." 

♦'  Try  not  to  think  about  it,  Medoline,  any  more." 

"Why  not?" 

"  When  a  person's  spirits  begin  to  get  homesick 
for  a  higher  existence,  usually  they  soon  drift  quiet- 
ly away  where  they  long  to  be." 

Another  day  she  told  me  how  much  Mra.  Blake 
had  done  for  me,  nursing  me  with  a  skill  and  pa- 
tience that  drew  high  praise  from  the  dignified  city 
physician  accustomed  to  skilled  nurses.  Mr.Win- 
throp  used  to  come  and  go,  watching  her  closely, 
and  one  day  he  said : — 

"  No  matter  what  happens,  Mrs.  Blake's  future 
will  be  attended  to." 

Then  I  asked  the  question  that  had  been  troub- 
ling me  ever  since  I  had  been  getting  better. 

"  Why  do  I  never  see  or  hear  anything  from  Mr. 
Winthrop?  you  say  he  has  forgiven  me;  but  he 
has  not  so  much  as  sent  me  a  message,  or  flower 
since  I  came  to  myself." 


fit. 


(S  (1 


1* 


^fl^. 


878  MEDOLINE  SELWYirS  WORK. 

"Why,  Medoline,  did  you  not  know?" 
"Know  what?  "  I  asked,  interrupting  her,  'ha8 
he  gone  away  with  Mrs.  Le  Grande?  "  I  had  for- 
gotten for  the  moment  that  Mrs.  Le  Grande  was 
even  weaker  than  myself. 

"  Oh,  no,  indeed ;  marriage  has  been  one  of  her 
least  anxieties  of  late.  Mr.  Winthrop  is  in  London 
before  this:  I  am  looking  for  letters  now  every 

day." 

"  Has  he  gone  to  Europe  ?  " 

♦'  Yes ;  I  thought  of  course  you  knew ;  he  left  the 
very  day  the  doctor  pronounced  you  out  of  danger." 

"Did  you  know  he  thought  of  going? " 

"  No,  we  were  greatly  surprised ;  I  cannot  think 
why  he  left  so  abruptly." 

"Perhaps  he  was  afraid  of  Ml^.  Le  Grande. 
He  knows  how  fascinating  she  can  be  when  she 

chooses."  . 

"I  do  not  think  she  had  anything  to  do  with  it. 
She  was  perfectly  harmless  when  he  left,  in  the  de- 
lirium of  fever,  with  two  physicians  in  attendance." 

I  was  not  convinced  by  Mrs.  Flaxman's  words, 
but  said  no  more  on  the  subject. 

My  strength  rapidly  returned  once  I  had  got  in 
the  open  air.  Thomas  always  found  it  perfectly 
convenient  now  to  take  me  for  a  drive,  even  at 
most  unseasonable  hours.  His  gardening  was  press- 
ing heavily  upon  him,  and  no  doubt  it  was  hard 
for  him  to  trust  the  care  of  flower  and  vegetable 


WORK. 


CONVALESCBNCS. 


879 


know?" 
:rupting  her. 


'has 
mde  ?  "  I  had  for- 
rs.  Le  Grande  was 


IS  been  one  of  her 
throp  is  in  London 
letters  now  every 


u  knew ;  he  left  the 
you  out  of  danger." 
if  going?" 
ed ;  1  cannot  think 

:  Ml«.  Le  Grande. 
5  can  be  when  she 

thing  to  do  with  it. 
sn  he  left,  in  the  de- 
ians  in  attendance." 
3.  Flaxman's  words, 

d  once  I  had  got  in 
I  found  it  perfectly 
[or  a  drive,  even  at 
gardening  was  press- 
•  doubt  it  was  hard 
lower  and  vegetable 


beds  to  other  hands ;  but  of  the  two  he  preferred 
to  trust  them  rather  than  me,  to  strangers. 

We  took  long  drives  over  hill  and  valley — for  the 
most  part  taking  the  road  that  skirted  the  seashore. 
Silently  I  would  watch  the  white  sails  disappearing 
beyond  the  eastern  horizon,  wishing  that  I  could 
follow  them  to  my  guardian's  side.    I  missed  the 
delightful  hours  I  used  to  spend  in  his  study  listen- 
ing to  his  conversation,  so  differeut  from  that  of 
any  human  being  I  ever  knew.    He  lived  so  far 
above  the  range  of  little  minds,  the  trivialities  of 
every-day  life,  social  gossip,  and  the  like,  seemed 
to  shrink  from  his  presence.     One  always  felt  the 
touch  of  noble  thoughts,  and  the  longing  for  high 
endeavor  where  he  was.    I  lived  over  again  in  these 
long,  quiet  drives,  with  the  silent  Thomas,  those 
last  few  months,  when,  with  my  innocent  child's 
heart,  I  sunned  myself  in  his  presence,  unconscious 
of  the  rare  charm  and  fascination  that  drew  me  to 

him. 

But  as  I  grew  stronger  I  turned  fi-om  the  past 
and  its  memories,  bitter-sweet,  and  set  myself  res- 
olutely to  the  duty  of  living  my  life  well,  indepen- 
dently of  its  secret  unrest  and  pain.  I  knew  that 
many  before  me,  multitudes  after  me,  would  be 
called  to  endure  a  like  discipline,  and  the  world,  no 
doubt,  is  the  richer  in  what  it  holds  as  imperishable 
because  of  the  compensation  suffering  brings ;  for 
if  we  take  with  a  docile  mind  the  discipline  God 


380 


MEDOLIirS  aSLWTirS  WOTiK. 


i  w^ 


gives,  there  will  always  be  compensation.  One 
day,  when  I  had  come  back  strengthened  from  a 
long  drive  along  the  seashore,  a  very  pleasant  sur- 
prise awaited  me.  Mrs.  Flaxman  had  received  let- 
ters from  Mr.  Winthrop  which,  to  my  surprise,  she 
did  not  share  with  me.  But  she  handed  me  a  check 
for  two  hundred  dollars,  which  I  was  to  distribute 
among  my  poor  friends.  That  money  I  believe 
helped  to  change  the  destinies  of  several  lives :  for 
I  tried  to  lay  it  out  in  a  way  that  would  help  some 
to  improve  their  chances  to  make  life  a  success. 

June,  with  its  flowers  and  perfumes,  came  at 
last;  and  in  the  early  morning,  when  I  used  to 
ramble  through  the  stretches  of  flowers  and  shrub- 
bery, and  under  the  trees,  tremulous  with  bird  song, 
I  wondered  how  the  owner  of  all  this  beauty  could 
willingly  banish  himself  from  it.  Thomas  per- 
mitted me  to  gather  flowers  at  will — a  favor  I  used 
to  the  utmost,  among  others  sending  Mrs.  Le 
Grande  a  daily  remembrance  from  Oaklands,  in 
the  shape  of  a  bouquet  of  the  choicest  blossoms. 

At  last  I  resolved  to  follow  the  flowers  myself, 
though  at  the  risk  of  the  second  time  incurring  Mr. 
Winthrop's  displeasure ;  but  if  she  were  soon  to 
die,  as  her  attendants  seemed  to  expect,  surely  here 
was  missionary  work  right  at  my  door.  I  found 
the  cottage  a  perfect  bower  of  roses.  The  garden 
in  front  was  a  wilderness  of  the  choicest  varieties  I 
had  ever  seen,  and  in  the  windows  nothing  could  be 


1 


CON  VALE8CENCB. 


S81 


8  WOKK. 

)mpen8ation.  One 
trengthened  from  a 
\  very  pleasant  sur- 
an  had  received  let- 
,  to  my  surprise,  she 
3  handed  me  a  check 
1 1  was  to  distribute 
at  money  I  believe 
of  several  lives :  for 
lat  would  help  some 
ake  life  a  success. 

perfumes,  came  at 
ig,  when  I  used  to 
f  flowers  and  shruh- 
iilous  with  bird  song, 
»11  this  beauty  could 
a  it.    Thomas  per- 

will — a  favor  I  used 
s  sending  Mrs.  Le 

from  Oaklands,  in 
choicest  blossoms. 

the  flowers  myself, 
d  time  incurring  Mr. 
if  she  were  soon  to 
»  expect,  surely  here 
,  my  door.  I  found 
[  roses.  The  garden 
e  choicest  varieties  I 
}ws  nothing  could  be 


seen  but  green  leaves  and  blossoms  of  every  vary- 
ing tint.  It  seemed  hard  to  believe  that  the  rarest 
rose  of  all  was  lying  there,  fading  slowly  away 
amid  all  this  fragrance  and  beauty.  I  rang  the 
bell,  which  was  answered  by  the  same  little  maid 
who  had  received  me  before.  I  asked  for  Mrs. 
Le  Grande. 

"She's  no  better,  ma'am,  and  Missus  thinks  she'll 
never  be ;  but,  my  !  we  dassent  tell  her;  she's  that 
'fraid  of  death." 

''Does  she  see  strangers?" 
"There's  not  many  comes  to  see  her,  but  I'll 
tell  her  you're  here.    Just  step  in  here,  please,  and 
sit  down  for  a  minute." 

She  opened  a  door  near  by ;  but  I  thanked  her 
and  said  I  would  wait  in  the  garden  among  the 
roses  for  her  answer. 

She  soon  came  for  me  with  a  smiling  face,  say* 
ing  Mrs.  Le  Grande  would  be  glad  to  see  me,  and 
then  led  the  way  to  her  room. 

Mrs  Le  Grande  was  reclining  in  an  invalid's 
chair,  propped  up  with  pillows,  a  rich  satin  quilt 
thrown  over  her  feet,  and  robed  in  a  pink  silk 
wrapper  that  matched  perfectly  her  exquisite  com- 
plexion and  the  roses  fastened  in  her  hair.  She 
received  me  with  a  gaiety  that,  under  the  cir- 
cumstances, astonished  me,  saying:  "Why,  how 
well  you  look !  Your  attack  of  fever  could  not 
have  been  so  severe  as  mine  " 


i 


382  MEDOLINE  SELWYN'S  WOllK^  . 

« I  was  very  iU  indeed,  I  cannot  imagine^how  one 
could  be  worse  and  live,"  I  said,  gravely., 

"But  I  shall  not  be  so  strong  as  you  for  some 
weeks.  It  has  left  me  with  a  troublesome  cough, 
I  shall  be  well  when  that  leaves  me." 

I  felt  constrained;  uncertain  what  to  say. 
Since  hftr  recovery  was  doubtful  I  shrank  from  en- 
couraging  her  in  a  false  hope,  and  I  could  not  tell 
lier  that  we  all  thought  she  must  soon  die.  She 
BOOR  noticed  my  constraint,  and  began  to  rally  me. 
» Is  it  on  account  of  Mr.  Winthrop's  absence  you 
are  looking  so  sorrowful  ?  "  she  asked.  ^^ 

"  I  was  not  thinking  of  him,  but  of  you  alone. ' 
"  That  is  kind,  but  I  am  not  flattered.    I  did  not 
think  I  was  such  a  gloomy  object  for  reflection." 

♦'I  was  only  sorry  to  see  you  looking  so  frail, 
and  wishing  I  could  help  you,"  I  said,  gently. 

« If  you  only  could,  I  would  very  soon  discharge 
those  useless  doctors;  they  are  all  alike,  I  believe ; 
for  I  have  tried  each  one  of  them  in  turn,  and  they 
none  of  them  have  done  much  for  me." 

"I  do  not  think  there  is  so  much  difference  in 
doctors  as  people  imagine,  if  they  but  learn  the 
nature  of  the  disease,  they  all  know  the  proper 
remedies  to  use." 

"That  is  poor  consolation  for  me,  I  know  it  i 
had  a  good  physician  I  would  be  well  in  a  few  days ; 
but  the  trouble  with  those  who  have  attended  me  is, 
they  do  not  understand  my  case  and  do  not  admin- 
ister the  proper  remedies." 


j-sft; 


»t  imagine_how  ono 
gravely.. 

f  as  you  for  some 
roublesome  cough, 
me. 

in  what  to  say. 
L I  shrank  from  en- 
,nd  I  could  not  tell 
ust  soon  die.    She 

began  to  rally  me. 
throp's  absence  you 
asked. 

but  of  you  alone." 
lattered.    I  did  not 
ct  for  reflection." 
)u  looking  so  frail, 
'  I  said,  gently, 
very  soon  discharge 
all  alike,  I  believe ; 
im  in  turn,  and  they 
for  me." 

much  difference  in 

they  but  learn  the 

U  know  the  proper 

for  me,  I  know  if  I 
te  well  in  a  few  days; 
have  attended  me  is, 
se  and  do  not  admin- 


CONVALESCKNCE. 


383 


"  Nature  is  an  excellent  healer  herself.  If  wisely 
assisted,  she  soon  works  the  miracle  of  healing,  un- 
less,— "  I  hesitated. 

"Unless  what?"  she  asked  sharply. 

"  God  has  willed  otherwise." 

"  I  cannot  listen  to  such  words,  I  am  not  going 
to  die  until  I  am  old.  Oh,  why  must  we  grow  old 
and  die  at  last  ?  it  was  a  cruel  way  to  create  us." 

"  The  other  world  seemed  so  beautiful  to  me 
when  I  was  so  sick,  I  scarcely  wanted  to  come 
back  to  this." 

"Well,  it  seems  just  the  reverse  to  me,  I  lie 
awake  at  night  and  shudder  when  I  think  of  death 
and  the  grave.  It  makes  me  shudder  now  in  the 
sunshine,  and  with  you  smiling  down  so  kindly  at 
me.  Please  to  never  mention  such  things  to  me 
again." 

I  felt  grieved;  for  then  my  task  in  coming  here 
would  be  a  vain  one.  Day  by  day  as  I  came  to  see 
her,  the  hectic  flush  in  her  cheek  kept  deepening, 
and  the  eyes  grew  brighter  and  more  sorrowful, 
while  she  grew  gradually  weaker. 

Very  soon  the  pretty  parlor  was  vacated,  while 
her  bed  was  the  only  comfortable  resting-place. 
She  was  anxious  to  have  me  come,  and  the  nurse 
said  she  counted  the  hours  between  my  departure 
and  return.  Her  eagerness  to  have  me  read  to 
her  puzzled  me  at  first,  especially  since  she  was  in- 
different as  to  what  I  read,  but  after  a  while  I  found 


384 


MEDOLINE  aSLWYN'8  WO  UK. 


that  she  prized  my  reading  merely  because  it  acted 
as  a  sedative.  During  the  night  sleep  usually  for- 
sook her ;  but  when  I  left  she  was  generally  sleei)- 
ing  peacefully.  She  permitted  me  to  read  the  Bible 
as  much  as  I  chose.  One  day  she  explained  the 
reason  for  her  indifference  in  the  matter  :  — 

"I  do  not  wish  to  £fet  interested  in  anything  you 
read,  for  then  I  would  keep  awake  to  listen ;  but 
the  sleep  you  bring  me  is  better  than  all  my  medi- 
cine, I  set  nurse  reading  to  me  one  day ;  but  her 
voice  was  uncultivated,  and  her  emphasis  intolera- 
ble ;  I  should  soon  be  well  if  you  would  read  to  me 
all  the  time." 

"  I  never  heard  of  any  one  getting  raised  from 
a  sick-bed  by  so  simple  a  remedy." 

"  You  do  not  try  to  encourage  me,"  she  said, 

fretfully. 

I  read  on  to  her  day  after  day  until  my  voice 
grew  husky,  and  the  mere  act  of  speaking  often 
wearied  me. 

We  all  saw  the  end  was  rapidly  approaching, 
but  no  one  had  the  courage  to  tell  her.  She  got 
so  angry  with  me  one  day  when  I  suggested  bring- 
ing Mr.  Lathrop  to  visit  her,  that  I  slipped  quietly 
away  to  escape  the  storm  I  had  raised.  I  used  to 
go  and  return  with  a  sense  of  defeat  that  paralyzed 
all  hopeful  enthusiasm,  and  fearing  that  Mr.  Win- 
throp's  displeasure  had  probably  been  a  second 
time  incurred,  without  any  corresponding  gain  to 
debit  the  loss, 


8  WORK. 

ily  because  it  acted 
it  sleep  usually  for- 
vas  generally  sleep- 
no  to  read  the  Bible 
she  explained  the 
le  matter :  — 
ed  in  anything  you 
■ake  to  listen;  but 
r  than  all  ray  raedi- 
)  one  day ;  but  her 
r  emphasis  intolera- 
u  would  read  to  me 

^tting  raised  from 

dy." 

rage  me,"  she  said, 

day  until  my  voice 
t  of  speaking  often 

rapidly  approaching, 
10  tell  her.  She  got 
n  I  suggested  bring- 
hat  I  slipped  quietly 
d  raised.  I  used  to 
defeat  that  paralyzed 
lariiig  that  Mr.  Win- 
bably  been  a  second 
jrresponding  gain  to 


CHAPTER  XXVIIl. 

THE  SOUND  OF  MARRIAGE  BELLS. 

I  CAME  home  one  day  more  dispirited  than 
usual.  I  had  found  Mrs.  Le  Grande  weaker 
. than  ever,  and  yet  she  was  clinging  tena- 
ciously to  life,  and  had  that  morning  dictated  an  or- 
der to  her  dress-maker  in  New  York  for  a  most  elab- 
orate costume.    When  I  tried  to  urge  her  to  think  of 
something  more  enduring  than  the  raiment  whose 
fivshion  and  beauty  soon  changes,  she  forbade  me 
mentioning  such  a  thing  again  in  her  presence,  nor 
would  she  listen  to  the  Scripture  reading  on  which 
I  always  insisted  as  the  one  condition  on  which  I 
would  read  to  her  at  all.    I  knew  my  own  words 
were  powerless  to  break  the  crust  of  worldliness 
and  selfishness  that  bound  her  heart,  but  I  hoped 
God's  word  might  pierce  it.     Hubert  had  returned 
from  college  a  few  days  before,  and  just  as  I  en- 
tered the  oak  avenue  from  the   little    footpath 
through  the  wood,  I  met  him  cantering  along  on 
Faery.  ^^^ 


m'' 


S86 


MEDOLINE  SELWYN'S  WOHK. 


"A  stranger  has  just  arrived  whom  you  will  be 
surprised  to  see, "  he  called  to  me. 

•'  Any  one  I  know  ?  "  I  asked  carelessly. 

"  I  should  say  it  was  ;  and  one  whom  you  will  be 
glad  to  see,  if  I  am  not  mistaken." 

"  Won't  you  tell  me  who  it  is  and  so  prolong  my 
pleasure,  for  I  am  not  going  direct  to  the  house.  I 
intend  taking  a  stroll  through  the  garden  to  try 
and  get  some  unhappy  fancies  brushed  away  by 
the  blossoms." 

"  Anticipation  is  said  to  exceed  realization,  so  T 
will  generously  leave  you  the  former,"  he  said, 
giving  Faery  the  whip  and  cantering  rapidly  away. 

I  did  not  find  tlie  flowers  such  comforters  as  I 
hoped,  and  soon  entered  the  house,  no  doubt  slightly 
impelled  thereto  by  a  natural  curio&ity  as  well.  I 
glanced  into  the  drawing-room  and  parlors  as  I 
passed  along  the  hall  and  began  to  think  Hubert 
was  merely  subjecting  me  to  one  of  his  practical 
jokes,  as  I  could  see  no  sign  of  visitors  anywhere, 
and  I  concluded  to  go  to  the  library  and  try  for  a 
while  to  forget  myself  and  heartaches  in  an  hour's 
hard  reading.  I  found  the  door  ajar  and  when  I 
entered  the  room  was  surprised  to  find  the  curtains 
^drawn,  and  the  room  flooded  with  the  June  sun- 
shine. I  turned  to  the  study-table  to  see  who 
might  be  taking  such  liberties  in  the  master's  ab- 
sence when  there,  standing  with  his  back  to  me 
stood  Mr  Winthrop  himself.     He  turned  suddenly 


1_ 


S  WOHK. 

whom  you  will  be 
ne. 

carelessly. 
3  whom  you  will  be 
n. 

and  so  prolong  my 

3ct  to  the  house.    I 

the  garden  to  try 

I  brushed  away  by 

3ed  realization,  so  I 
3  former,"  he  said, 
ering  rapidly  away, 
uch  comforters  as  I 
3e,  no  doubt  slightly 
urio&ity  as  well.  I 
n  and  parlors  as  I 
n  to  think  Hubert 
me  of  his  practical 
t  visitors  anywhere, 
ibrary  and  try  for  a 
rtaches  in  an  hour's 
or  ajar  and  when  I 
.  to  find  the  curtains 
(vith  the  June  sun- 
y-table  to  see  who 
in  the  master's  ab- 
ith  his  back  to  me 
He  turned  suddenly 


THE  SOUND  OF  MARRIAGE  BELLS.         387 

and  saw  me.    "Ah,  little  one,  have  you  come  to 
speak  to  me  ?  " 

"  I  did  not  know  you  were  here  ;  but  I  am  very 
glad  to  speak  to  you — to  welcome  you  home,"  I 
said,  giving  him  my  hand. 

"  You  seem  like  one  come  back  to  me  from  the 
dead,"  he  said,  soberly,  still  holding  my  hand. 

"I  am  not  sure  if  it  was  not  you  who  held  me 
back  from  those  shining  gates." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"When  you  held  my  hand  through  that  long 
night,  I  thought  but  for  your  fiim  grasp  I  should 
drift  out  of  reach  of  life  altogether.  " 

"  I  tried  to  pray  that  night,  Medoline,  as  I  had 
never  done  before ;  I  believe  my  prayers  v/ere  an- 
swered." 

"  Then  you  have  found  that  the  Bible  is  true?" 
I  asked,  looking  up  eagerly  into  his  face. 

"  Yes,  every  day  more  clearly." 

"  Then  it  was  well  worth  all  the  weariness  and 
pain  I  endured  to  have  you  say  this ;  but  have  you 
fully  forgiven  me,  Mr  Winthrop,  and  may  we  take 
up  our  friendship  as  before  ?  " 

, "  Must  we  take  it  up  as  before,  Medoline?  I  have 
found  I  cannot  be  satisfied  with  your  friendship 
only?" 

"  I  do  not  understand  you." 

"  You  drove  me  away,  and  you  have  forced  me 
to  return — must  I  leave  again  ?  I  cannot  remain 


«r 


388 


MEDOLINE  SELWYirS  WORK. 


9 '  t"l 

11  V^i 


it   A 


near  you  any  longer  with  our  relation  to  each  other 
unchanged.  I  must  have  your  love  or  nothing. 
Friendship  between  us,  and  nothing  more,  is  out 
of  the  question.     Can  you  not  learn  to  love  me, 

Medoline?" 

I  turned  and  placed  both  my  hands  in  his. 
"  Does  this  mean  love  instead  of  fear  ?    Remem- 
ber you  told  me  not  long  ago  you  were  afraid  of  me ; 
answer  me  truly,  little  one;  do  hand  and  heart  go 
together?" 

"  If  you  care  to  have  them,"  I  murmured  softly, 
"but,  have  you  forgotten  Mrs.  Le  Grande? 

"  Long  ago  I  ceased  to  think  of  her,  only  as  one 
may  remember  a  brief  surrender  to  an  ignoble  pas- 
sion. The  mistake  I  made  waa  in  measuring 
womanhood  generally  by  her  standard— you  have 
taught  me,  my  darling,  that  angels  have  not  yet 
ceased  to  visit  our  poor  earth." 

"Oh,  Mr.  Winthrop,  you  must  not  go  to  the 
other  extreme  or  I  shall  soon  disappoint  you." 

"  You  are  all  I  could  wish,  Medoline.  If  it  were 
possible  I  would  not  ask  any  change  in  mind  or 
body,  my  Eve—fresh  from  the  hand  of  God." 

His  words  frightened  me ;  for  how  could  I  ever 
fulfill  his  expectations  ?    He  read  my  face. 

"  Are  you  sure,  Medoline,  you  love  me  as  I  want 
to  be  loved  by  my  wife?  Have  you  gained  your 
woman's  heart  with  its  full  capacity  for  love  or  suf- 
fering, or  are  you  still  only  a  child  ?  " 


!  WOBK. 

ition  to  each  other 

•  love  or  nothing. 

thing  more,  is  out 

learn  to  love  me, 

hands  in  his. 
of  fear?    Remem- 
were  afraid  of  me ; 
hand  and  heart  go 

I  murmured  softly, 
Le  Grande?" 
of  her,  only  as  one 
r  to  an  ignoble  pas- 
was  in  measuring 
standard — ^you  have 
ngels  have  not  yet 

lUst  not  go  to  the 
Lisappoint  you." 
;edoline.    If  it  were 
change  in  mind  or 
hand  of  God." 
)r  how  could  I  ever 
ead  my  face. 
)U  love  me  as  I  want 
re  you  gained  your 
acity  for  love  or  suf- 
shild?" 


TUE  aOUI^D  OF  MAlililAQE  BELLS.         389 

»*I  could  die  for  you,  Mr  Winthrop,  if  it  were 
for  your  good;  1  do  not  ask  for  anything  better 
than  to  be  near  you  always  in  time  and  eternity." 

"  Since  how  long  have  you  regarded  me  in  this 
way,  Medoline  ?  " 

"  You  remember  that  long  night  holding  my 
hand,  when  I  was  at  the  worst  of  the  fever?  I  saw 
everything  clearly  then.  My  spirit  seemed  to  get 
away  from  the  body,  or  very  nearly  so,  and  looked 
on  things  as  it  had  never  done  before." 

«  Did  you  wonder  after  that  why  I  left  you  so 

abruptly?" 

"  For  a  long  time  I  thought  you  were  still  at 
Oaklands.  Every  day  I  used  to  hope  you  might 
come,  or  send  me  a  message." 

"  You  shall  never  be  so  left  again  till  death  sep 
arates  us." 

"If  you  cared  for  me  then,  why  did  you  leave 
me  ?  "  I  asked  timidly. 

"  If  I  cared  for  you  then,  Medoline  1  Why  don't 
you  ask  me  when  first  I  began  to  love  you?  " 

"  I  did  not  think  to  ask." 

"Do  you  remember  that  day  in  the  autumn 
when  you  had  the  Mill  Road  people  here?" 

"Yes." 

"You  camo  to  me,  if  you  remember,  with  the 
widow  Larkum's  baby  in  your  arms,  a  very  timid, 
and  beseeching  look  on  your  face  at  the  same  time." 

I  nodded  in  reply. 


tiif 


390  MEDOLINB  SELWYN'S  WOUK. 

"  My  heart  went  out  to  you  then  and  there,  as 
it  never  did  to  any  woman.  I  had  been  fascinated 
and  amused  with  your  ways  before  that.  How  1 
have  waited  and  hoped  since  then  to  see  you  turn 
to  me  with  the  love-light  in  your  eyes  I  Fear  lest 
I  might  lose  my  self-restraint  and  speak  too  soon, 
drove  me  from  yt)u— fear  lest  some  other  man 
would  win  what  I  so  passionately  craved  has 
brought  me  back.  Darling,  you  have  made  this 
the  happiest  day  of  my  life." 


~-~-.^^-^-^;^^-^:r-:r::^",Sue:e^-^^'-*----''^^^ 


S  WORK. 

then  and  there,  as 
liad  been  fascinated 
ifore  that.  How  1 
len  to  see  you  turn 
ur  eyes  I  Fear  lest 
ind  speak  too  soon, 
it  some  other  man 
nately  craved  haa 
ou  have  made  this 


I? 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

THE  END. 

I  NEVER  saw  Mrs.  Le  Grande  again  alive.    The 
following  morning  I  made  my  confession  to  Mr. 
Winthrop,  and  got  his  consent  to  contmue  my  visits 
to  the  sick  room,  at  Rose  Cottage,  until  recovery 
or  death  should  take  place.    My  one  anxiety  as  I 
walked  along  the  field  and  woodland  that  day,  was 
lest  my  face  might  reveal  to  her  keen  vision  the 
gladness  that  thriUed  aU  my  pulses.    I  did  not 
wait  to  ring  the  bell  but  went  directly  to  her  rooms. 
The  parlor  door  was  closed;  when  I  opened  it, 
at  the  farther  end  of  the  room  I  was  « Urtled  ^ 
see  a  white-robed  form  lying  on  one  of  the  sofas. 
I  hesitated  with  sudden  fear,  but  finally  sum- 
moning all  my  resolution  I  crossed  the  room  and 
lod  beside  the  clay-cold  form  of  Mrs.  Le  Grande^ 
The  nurse  who  was  in  the  adjoining  room  came  to 
my  side  and  after  a  few  seconds'  silence  she  said, 
gently: 


m"' 


\ 


If' 


MEDOLINE  SELWYN'S  WORK. 

"I  never  felt  so  lonesome  with  any  dying  per- 
son as  with  her  last  night." 

"Did  she  know  she  was  dying? " 

"Yes,  we  told  her.  It  seemed  dreadful  to  let 
her  go  before  her  Maker  without  a  prayer  for 
mercy,  but  her  thoughts,  for  all  we  told  her,  were 
more  about  this  world  than  the  next,  She  made 
her  will  as  soon  as  the  doctor  came.  We  sent  for 
liim  in  haste,  and  then  she  told  us  what  to  put  on 
her  when  we  prepared  her  for  the  coffin.  That's 
the  gown  she  was  to  have  been  married  in.  She 
said:  'Mr.  Winthrop  shall  see  his  bride  in  her 
wedding  dress,  at  last.' " 

I  looked  at  the  rich  white  satin,  with  its  exquisite 
trimming  of  lace,  and  the  fresh  gathered  roses  in- 
stead of  orange  blossoms. 

"  Did  she  say  nothing  about  where  her  soul  was 
going? "  I  asked,  yet  dreading  a  reply. 

"  After  he'd  got  the  will  drawn,  the  doctor  asked 
her  if  her  business  for  another  world  was  satisfac- 
torily arranged;  but  she  said  the  next  world  would 
have  to  wait  its  turn  after  she'd  got  there ;  she  had 
no  strength  left  to  make  any  more  preparations.  " 

I  turned  away,  too  sick  at  heart  to  listen  longer, 
but  the  nurse  followed  me  with  a  message  from 
the  dying  woman. 

"It  was  her  special  request  that  you  and  Mr. 
Winthrop  should  come  to  her  funeral,  and  after- 
ward be  present  at  the  reading  of  the  will.    I  am 


8  ]VORK. 

itli  any  dying  per- 

led  dreadful  to  let 
hout  a  prayer  for 
11  we  told  her,  were 
e  next,  She  made 
3ame.  We  sent  for 
J  us  what  to  put  on 
the  coffin.  That's 
in  married  in.  She 
ee  his  bride  in  her 

in,  with  its  exquisite 
h  gathered  roses  in- 

where  her  soul  was 

a  reply. 

ivn,  the  doctor  asked 
r  world  was  satisfac- 
lie  next  world  would 
d  got  there ;  she  had 
more  preparations. " 
eart  to  listen  longer, 
ith  a  message  from 

t  that  you  and  Mr. 
r  funeral,  and  after- 
g  of  the  will.    I  am 


THE  END. 


893 


not  at  liberty  to  explain,  but  I  think  you  will  re- 
gret it  if  you  do  not  come.  She  said  that  was  to 
be  the  sign  of  reconciliation  between  her  and  Mr. 

Winthrop." 

"  I  will  deliver  the  message,  and,  if  possible,  pre- 
vail on  him  to  come,"  I  promised,  and  then  hastily 
left  the  house.  When  I  reached  home  I  went 
directly  to  the  library  where  I  found  Mr.  Winthroi). 
He  looked  surprised  to  see  me  back  so  soon,  and 
then,  noticing  traces  of  tears  on  my  face, said: 
"  What  is  wrong,  little  one  ?  " 
"Mra.  Le  Grande  died  sometime  during  the 
night.  The  nurse  told  me  sihe  showed  no  anxiety 
respecting  her  future  state," 

He  was  silent.    At  last  1  said:  "You  have  for 
given  her,  Mr.  Winthrop  ?  " 

"  Forgiven  her !  Yes,  Medoline ;  and  if  she  had 
lived,  I  could  never  havo  repaid  her  for  the  lesson 
she  taught  me,  and  the  favor  she  conferred  on  me 
by  going  away  so  abruptly." 

♦'  Then  you  will  grant  her  last  request  that  we 
should  both  attend  her  funeral,  and  the  reading  of 
her  will.  I  have  an  impression  she  has  left  each 
of  us  some  keepsake,  as  a  token  of  her  repent- 
ance." 

"Don't  you  think,  little  one,  that  would  be  a 
mercenary  motive  to  take  us  there  ?  " 

"  But  I  want  you  to  grant  her  dying  request,"  I 
murmured,  already  ashamed  of  my  argument. 


L 


t0 


394 


MhWOLINE  SELWrN'S  WORK. 


m 


"We  will  both  go,  assuredly ;  and  in  the  mean- 
time I  shall  see  that  preparations  for  her  funeral 
are  suitably  arranged." 

"You  will  look  upon  her  dead  face:  she  left 
directions  as  to  liow  she  should  be  robed  for  the 
grave.  She  said  you  should  see  your  bride  in  her 
wedding  dress  at  last." 

"  I  expeot,  before  many  weeks,  to  see  my  own 
precious  bride.  I  shall  be  indifferent  as  to  her 
dress.  It  will  be  herself  I  shall  look  at,"  he  said 
with  a  caress  that  for  the  time  made  me  forget 
Mi-s.  Le  Grande. 

We  went  to  the  funeral,  to  which  went  also  a 
good  part  of  the  townsfolk ;  for  curiosity  was  on 
tip-toe.    Thomas  was  greatly  mystified  when  Mr. 
Winthrop,  leaving   Mrs.   Flaxraan   at  Oaklands, 
bade  him  drive  us  back  to  Linden  Lane.    Dr.  Hill 
was  there,  and  Mrs.  Le  Grande's  lawyer  from  New 
York,  and  Dr.  Townshend,  who  had  drawn  her 
will,  with  the  nurse  and  landlady,  who  \v^re  her 
witnesses.    Presently  the  lawyer  put  on  his  spec- 
tacles, and  broke  the  seal,  and  then  in  a  hard,  dry 
voice  began  to  read  the  will.    I  listened  with 
languid  interest  until  presently  Mr.  Winthrop's 
name  was  mentioned.    I  looked  at  him  with  keen 
surprise.    Could  it  be  possible  Mrs.  Le  Grande  had 
willed  him  the  bulk  of  her  fortune  ?    His  face  was 
pale,  I  could  see  no  trace  of  a  satisfaction  one  might 
naturally  expect  on  the  face  of  another  at  such  un- 


'8  WOUK. 

r ;  and  in  the  mean- 
ons  for  her  funeral 

(lead  face:  she  left 
Id  be  robed  for  tlio 
ee  your  bride  in  her 

eks,  to  see  my  own 
idiflferent  as  to  her 
all  look  at,"  he  said 
aie  made  me  forget 

J  which  went  also  a 
for  curiosity  was  on 
mystified  when  Mr. 
xman  at  Oaklanda, 
iden  Lane.    Dr.  Hill 
e's  lawyer  from  New 
who  had  drawn  her 
dlady,  who  w*ere  her 
yer  put  on  his  spec- 
d  then  in  a  hard,  dry 
ill.    I  listened  with 
itly  Mr.  Winthrop's 
ed  at  him  with  keen 
I  Mrs.  Le  Grande  had 
rtune  ?    His  face  was 
satisfaction  one  might 
d  another  at  such  un- 


THE  END. 


800 


expected  accession  of  wealth ;  rather  ho  looked 
grieved  and  shocked.  Before  I  liad  time  to  recover 
niyst'.f  my  own  name  was  read  off  in  the  even,  uu- 
impassioned  tones  of  :.e  lawyer.  She  left  me  her 
jewelry,  pictures,  and  other  valuables.  It  seemed 
like  one  of  the  fairy  tales  of  my  childhood.  There 
was  something  pathetic,  too,  in  the  wording  of  her 
will :  "  I  hope  they  will  adorn  a  happier  woman 
than  I  have  been,"  as  if  that,  too,  were  a  legacy  she 
bequeathed  me. 

The  formality  of  reading  the  will  ended,  Mr. 
Winthrop  asked  for  an  immediate  and  private  in- 
terview with  the  lawyer.  Afterward  I  learned  it 
was  to  see  if  some  informality  could  not  be  discov- 
ered, rendering  the  will  illegal,  but  this  was  impos- 
sible. He  took  the  money  as  a  sacred  trust,  expend- 
ing the  interest  year  by  year  on  religious  and  be- 
nevolent objects.  Into  many  a  heathen  household 
has  it  already  carried  the  blessed  light  of  the 
gospel— to  many  a' burdened  heart  has  it  come  to 
lighten  the  load  of  poverty  and  care. 

The  story  of  one  memorable  year  of  -v  life  is 
told.  It  was  the  prelude  to  many  lappier 
year. 


tt 


M 


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